


You want me to go where?

by Illidria



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Crossover, F/F, F/M, LLF Comment Project, M/M, Multi, mention of rape, typical violence for the Fallout Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-05 23:39:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 38
Words: 47,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11588553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illidria/pseuds/Illidria
Summary: The people in the Wall are a weird lot, hoarding more weapons than the Brotherhood and being more accepting than the Railroad. And yet, they manage to look at you twice as menacingly as either of those... A Fallout/FMA:B Crossover-fic, focusing on the Briggs crew.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I hope you like this little fic of mine. I would love it if you read and reviewed, so improvement can manifest itself soon. Have fun and remember: My ask-box is always open ;)

“Why are you doing this?”

The blonde was stitching away at his arm, not answering.

They’d heard that someone had moved into the dump near Boston harbour and that traffic in the area had exploded. Traders of all regions, more Brahmins than most had ever seen. They’d decided the two day treck to the location must be worth the loot that awaited them.

Especially when they learned from an unfortunate settler, that only one woman manned the dump. The Boss had grinned widely.

Without much preamble the women in question poured what smelled like strong alcohol over his wound.

Or rather, stump. The arm she’d shot off herself.

“What kind of crazy bitch are you? First you shot my arm off, then you treat the wounds. I’ll be worth nothing on the slave market! That’s how you made the caps, right?!”

His continued silence started to annoy him.

They’d been fifteen against one, getting inside the run-down house should have been childs play. Then a mine had gone off and they’d been nine. After great shooting on her side four. Then his arm was severed from his body, the exploding flesh ridding him of everey hope that it may be sewn back on. Almost a third of it was blown to bits.

Blinded by pain he only heard his remaining comrades flee.

She started to bandage her handywork.

“How does a Great Khan get to the Boston wasteland?”

Finally she’d spoken and instead of giving him answers, he now felt backed into a corner. He’d not expected that someone around here would be able to tell from his tattoos where he came from. It was something that he’d not dared to tell anybody, being a Great Khan kind of a difficult thing outside of the Khans themselves.

Done with his arm she stood up and turned to a basin of water, washing his blood from her hands. Through the dirt on her face two tantalizingly blue eyes locked onto his. She wore well used and mended olive overalls, several pieces of leather-aromor over it. On her head sat a well-worn Nuka-Cola cap, blonde, dirty hair spilling out from under it.

“You already spoke, so you’re not dim-witted. Speak up.”

He spit in front of her boots.

“Make me!”

Only NCR-scum would know where he came from, there was no way around it. He put on his best defiant expression just to be met with the butt of a machinge gun to his stump.

He howled in pain and could barely contain the feeling of fear at the snarling face in front of him.

“Only one more time you dense Raider. Why is a great Khan here? Are there more of you? Who send you here?!”

He gathered his wits about him and answered. Will to live stronger than his resolve.

“As far as I know I’m the only one. Expelled from the family so to speak. No one send me.”

The butt of her weapon was taken from his arm and she looked at him with a grim expression.

“You joined these excuses for Raiders?”

She gestured to the front of the house, were the remains of his comrades lay about and he nodded.

“There’s more where they came from?”

He nodded again, the effects of the stim she’d given him slowly wearing off.

“How long until they’ll be back?”

Breathing through the pain, through the fear, he answered her truthfully.

“Three days at the most, two if the back-up moved out as planned.”

The blonde nodded, expression downright pissed.

Leaving him where he was, his remaining arm shakled to the floor anyways, she went about packing up her things. Materials, weapons and a copius amount of caps were packed, along with food and water supplies that would’ve lasted their group for weeks.

“What’s going to happen to me? Are you going to leave me here?”

She turned to look at him, the light of the candles hitting her face. It struck him to his core that death had such a beautiful face.

The blonde shrugged.

“I’m not one for leaving people in shitty situations behind. You’ll come with me. This way I can kill you myself if a Khan does show his ugly face against you words.”

He wondered what would happen with him, where she wanted to go. What had her fearing the Khans so much or if it was people from the region as a whole. What would happen with him, once they’d reached her destination.

Why she’d not shot him, once she had the informations she wanted from him.

“And where would you have me accompany you?”

She threw him a dusty, old blanket and a tato.

“Ever been to Diamond City?”


	2. Chapter 2

She woke him up at dawn with a kick, strapped a heavy pack to his back and loosely linked his shackled arm to his leg. He followed, not protesting. Not now, with her wearing dark combat armour over her overall, Nuka-Cola-cap exchanged for a helmet, googles and a neckerchief. Not with what looked like a damned sabre strapped to her hip and a heavy machine gun slung over her shoulders.

They wandered up a half-collapsed flight of stairs and he squinted against the first light of day.

“Keep your head down and try to stay quiet. There´s a nest of gunners nearby.”

Here too, he obeyed. No matter what she could have in store for him, a bunch of Gunners was something entirely different then a bunch of Raiders. They knew how tactic worked, used cover to their advantage and were incredibly well equipped. There was no point in taking his chances with those guys, if he could wait for a moment of abstraction from her and just flee. Preferably with the backpack he currently carried, which was probably worth several hundreds, if not thousands, of caps.

There were plenty of makeshift-walkways, spanning from roof to roof, and he had to wonder if this was just her work or if she had help. The ways wound around chimneys and shop-signs, around little walls and old-time-technical-units. They provided plenty of cover and while he was on one side glad for this, the other half of him got anxious as the hours progressed though, no chance to get away in sight.

“I need to take a piss!”

It was a possibility, had worked before. People were initially more alert when you had to step to the side, but after they heard the unmistakable sounds, most of them relaxed a lot.

“Piss your pants.”

She did walk on without a hitch, not even looking back at him. The hours trickled by some more and when the sunlight slowly started to fade, he could make out a cluster of lights in the distance clearer with every step.

They´d not stopped for food and only once for a drink. Gunfire they´d heard aplenty, had sneaked around at several occasions but had gone unnoticed for the most part. Difficulties only reared their head, when they had to leave the roof-walkways. A latter stood between him and the ground.

“You´ll get down there?”

Her voice was muffled through the cloth, her gaze hardly readable through the googles, but her rough tone was unmistakable.

He looked down, thinking hard. If she´d let him go first, he could try to get away as soon as his feet hit the ground. The city was near, yes, but he knew that the region around it was ripe with strife, so she´d probably not want to draw attention to herself. And if she went first, he could backtrack some of the walkways, until he reached that small backlog he´d spotted. He could drop down and then wait until she passed him and then finally flee.

The butt of her weapon had pain explode near his kidney.

“I asked you something!”

He breathed through the sharp pain, pushing it down. He´d managed the arm, or the lack thereof, with lots of concentration and what was probably Med-x mixed into his water.

“I´ll manage.”

She gestured for him to go first, loosening the shackle so that he´d get down. Awkwardly he began his venture, with every step his hand gripping the next rung of the ladder quickly. The descent took its time and he made a conscious effort to look in pain and seem slow, just to wane her secure. Not that he had to play the pain part and it hurt him to even admit to himself, that the phenomenon called a phantom limb was now something he knew first hand.

When his feet hit the floor, he made a run for it, covering a whole ten metres before he landed face first in the dirt.

He heard the blonde speaking above him, talking to another man.

“I´d have gotten him, you know?”

Her voice without hostility was a new experience altogether.

“No doubting that sir, but he carried so much of the merchandise, I thought you wouldn’t want to take the chance.”

She grunted above him, using her boot to turn him on his side.

“A souvenir, Sir?”

The man’s skin was dark, his hair white. Black trousers with suspenders and a white shirt, mixed in with a few pieces of leather armour. His eyes hidden by small, black spectacles.

“So to speak, I´ll tell you more when were at the wall. You knew I was coming?”

The man grabbed the strap of the backpack and helped to hoist him up again. With a motion quicker than expected, he was shackled again. The blonde though, had pulled down her neckerchief and pushed up her googles. Against the dirt of the day her eyes seemed extremely blue.

“You caught the eye of a bird of prey. They send a messenger to inform us that you were early and had company.”

“So they know, a messenger less we have to send then. Will probably send something soon, to make new plans. But first, we´ll get this fool to Doc. Sun.”

The blonde led the way again, the man falling in step behind him. After a few minutes they saw guards, then a big gate. Nobody questioned his being there, people only nodded in the woman’s direction respectfully.

And suddenly he stood in a big and bustling market-place. Lights were up and on, people buzzing from left to right. He heard a voice to his right and turned to look, seeing a man in white, forehead crinkled.

“Don´t tell me that you dragged another one here that I have to patch up Sir!”


	3. Chapter 3

She was the master of strays, brought them all to her wall and gave them a home. Who didn’t want one could leave or die, depending on who they`d been before she picked them up. He`d been one of those strays, even though the circumstances of how he came to be hers had been so very different from all the others.

New York City was a horrible place, yet a goldmine for scavengers with good gear. But Raiders had most of the city in their grip, several gangs sharing the ruins of this place like one would a cake. It was extremely dangerous at the very least, even when you didn’t take the super mutants into account. He`d wandered through it, not really knowing at the time how he got there, but did not let this disturb him. His instincts had still been functioning and so he`d kept his head down, but to little avail. He`d been spotted and shot several times. He`d not made out where the attacker shot from or who it even was, he`d just gritted his teeth and hid. After a day without help or gear, because, fuck, how did he even get into this situation, he`d made himself at home in a staircase of an apparently abandoned building.

He`d woken up when someone grabbed his weapon, a rusty 10mm Pistol, and startled him awake. Maybe she`d thought him dead, maybe she`d wanted to make sure he was, it was a mystery and would probably forever remain one. But when he looked at her, meet with a face hidden by googles and neckerchief as well as sturdy leather-armour, he`d been sure that his life was over. A few hours of pain and treated wounds hadn’t been in his range of expectations from this day, neither that she would led him through an underground system of tunnels until they`d been at the outskirts of the city.

She`d asked him about his red eyes, something he couldn’t explain to her. He`d asked her where she came from, which she only answered evasively, telling him that she came up from the capital wasteland. When she told him that she wanted to go to Boston, the name of the city had rung a bell.

With two mutts in tow, they`d headed out together, aiming for Boston. He`d not yet known anything about her, except for the fact that she was a damn good scavenger and seemingly attracted stray dogs. That she was twenty at the most, had long blonde hair and incredibly blue eyes. That she was lying about where she came from and that he didn’t know who he even was.

The first of many things they`d picked up on their way was a name for him, practical and directly taken from the streets.

“Just two miles `till the next big city Miles.”

It was a joke they made to this day.

Yet, her newest stray was really no joke.

She`d told him about what happened while changing out of her combat gear and into more comfortable, normal clothes.

How she`d been ambushed, saved by Karley`s traps, how she`d shot as many as she could. Recounted the whole day and night to him, as the trip back. Pulling the suspenders up over her shoulders he`d seen the tension in them.

It was no secret to him that it irked her that she had to leave her post early. They had a deal with the Railroad after all and now she`d get a visit by a probably irritable member of them, instead of a Synth trying for a new life.

Looking down at the sleeping man, a mountain of muscle, honestly, reeking extremely of antiseptics after getting stitched back together by the Doc, he couldn’t get what she saw in him.

He knew that the guy was a Great Khan, or had been, being a Raider now certainly a step down according to Olivier. He was dangerous, maybe would recognize her surname, could do serious harm to her if he wanted to. Armstrong wasn’t a well-known name around here, especially since they`d made sure before ever setting foot into Boston to keep this particular secret, well, a secret. If word got out where she was, the richest man in the NCR would move heaven and hell to get his daughter back, whether she wanted that or not.

The man flinched, opening his eyes and trying to sit up as fast as possible upon seeing him.

“Fucking creep!”

“What do you want here?”

He did not try to sound nice, didn’t want to. Olivier was keen on turning enemies into friends, claimed that those were most loyal, but her apparent disregard for her own safety in this matter, or any other, really, would be the death of him. He stared the man down, who sat leaned against the wall.

“What do you mean?! You`re aware that I`m not here because I want to, right? Crazy blondie just had to take me here!”

“Believe me, I know that. But what do you intent to do now?”

The man, still visibly angry, was quiet for a moment. He huffed.

“Unshackle me and show me the way to this blonde bitch and I`ll show you what I intent to do!”

He was a fast person. Stronger than average. Way stronger. His arm pressed the man to the wall by the throat, the other pushed his dark lenses down a fraction. He could see the man’s pupils dilate while taking in the colour of his irises. His voice was low, honest and more vicious than most people had ever heard.

“If you ever call her that again, if you ever only lay a finger on her, you will be a dead man. Remember that!”

He turned abruptly, leaving their makeshift holding cell.

Outside of the wall he stopped, looking over the bustling market-place. He leaned against the wall and breathed deeply, feeling that _something_ was going to happen. He didn’t know if good or bad.

He felt fur against his hand and kneeled to Slocum`s level.

“Hey old man, what`s up?”

The dog leaned against him, showing him which itches he wanted scratched. The short coat, almost blue to the eyes, was clean, the dog’s muscles taunt. He still was a force to be reckoned with, but they`d refrained from taking him with them on scavenges for almost a year now. His job was now to oversee the wall, to help patrol and keep his people save. He growled lowly.

Olivier`s oldest stray had long ago noticed the man coming up their way, had recognised the shape of the armour.

Miles stood, patting Slocum on the head, and called out to him.

“Mustang! What brings you here?”

The second in Command of the Diamond City Guard raised a hand in greeting.

“The new guy the Sir brought in. The mayor issued that I check everybody who`s knew to the city.”

“Well, come on in then.”

He gestured friendly and Mustang set foot into the wall. Slocum knew him to be a friend, but had growled because he knew that it was his masters least favourite friend. Miles had known that Olivier wouldn’t be too happy about having to discuss with the Railroad now, but that they sent him, would ruin her mood for more than a few minutes.

Going back inside, he muttered to himself.

“I should try to find some Fancy Lady`s, or I`ll never have a quiet moment again.”


	4. Chapter 4

She was even more pissed than usual upon seeing him.  
  
"What do you want Roy-Boy?"  
  
He held up his hands in a defensive gesture.  
  
"Nothing much Sir, just inquiring about the new guy in the city and the parcel you were to pick up."  
  
Slocum stood next to him, in equal parts making sure that he wasn’t about to harm his beloved master and being careful to get petted as much as he wanted. The dog was a lot like the blonde woman and at the same time vastly different. Especially his temper was a lot better.  
  
Said temper flared.  
  
"The location was compromised and is expected to be overrun with Raiders in the next two days. No place a parcel should be dropped off at. I`d be willing to set up a delivery at another date and another place. Because a deal is a deal. But the new guy is none of your business!"  
  
Mustang looked between Olivier, nicknamed Sir in the whole Boston-area, and Miles, who was internally called "the botched job" between members of the Railroad. He saw that the man wasn’t particularly happy with her decision either and steeled himself for further inquiry. He would not  
consider Miles an ally, he was too loyal to the blonde for that and probably hated his guts, but he could help should there be a risk to the running operation.  
  
"Information concerning the parcel will reach you through the usual ways. And the man you brought in is my business too. McDonough wants to know where you picked him up, what his name is and what you intend to do with him. Be happy that he send me, not Archer. So, Synth? Stray? What had you pick him up? And why is he in a holding cell?"  
  
She`d been the first to accidently find a Railroad-Headquarter in its entire history. Had sought shelter in the Slocum Joe`s the switchboard was under from a radiation storm, with Miles and two dogs in tow. This had been nothing new, the shop often raided and searched and slept in by wanderers. That she`d found the secret door though, had been something frighteningly new.  
  
And that she had the "botched job" at her back was even more frightening. Revenge of the Synths was never something they`d thought about.  
  
"He hasn’t given us a name yet. You can ask him if you like, but he tends to spit on people getting too close to the bars, so be sure to lean in. He`s one of the reasons the operation is halted for now, as he  
and his group tried to get a hold of the loot, we think. Raiders by the looks of it."  
  
Mustang took off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair. The air was humid these days, had everyone sweltering and melting insider their armour. Inside the wall though, it was mercifully cold and he revelled in it. He took a look around the room, having been inside Olivier’s bureau and quarters more often than he`d have liked. It was a small but tidy room, the desk wooden, a terminal on top of it that he knew to be scavenged from some pre-war military facility. It was more modern than any that he`d seen before. Trinkets were rare, but always something else. Here a Nuka-Cola figurine, there a Vault-Tec emblem. The bed and dresser in the back of the room were divided by a flimsy kind of curtain, weapon-crates shoved under it. Pillows and blankets, clothes hung up on clothes valets, silently confirming again that Miles didn’t fear a second botched deletion of his memories. He simply loved what he remembered now.  
  
He sighed loudly.  
  
"I`ll talk to him and tell the Mayor that you got the guy in check. What will you do if he causes trouble?"  
  
"Shoot him."  
  
It was Miles that answered, but Olivier didn’t seem perturbed by that. Maybe she was used to this tone from the man, unforgiving and a touch too quick, but it had his own stomach form knots.  
  
Miles was usually a calm and collected man, a kind of counterweight to the often brash and loud Olivier. But Mustang had been part of the team when they brought him to Doc Amari, the before unresponsive Man-Synth-Hybrid suddenly strong, trashing in the memory pod. It had only served to repress his memories and when they tried to get him back to a safehouse before getting him out of the Commonwealth, he`d made a run for it. They`d searched, but never found him. Glory had spat at several pairs of feet, telling them what she thought about memory-wiping without explicit consent. They`d never tried it again.  
  
Never even thought about it again, after he`d suddenly stood inside of the switchboard, Olivier at his side, hands in the air.  
  
"The walkways you escaped over are save from being compromised?"  
  
Olivier shifted and it struck him again, that she had to be about the same age as him. He wanted to become Mayor, had the goal to make Diamond City a better place, was born and raised here. Everybody knew him. She was Sir to most people, Olivier to those close to her. Nobody  
knew for sure how old she was, or where she came from. Just that she one day was carried into town over Miles shoulder, badly shot, a handful of dogs at their heels. She had no last name to anybody in Boston, not even to her men on and in the wall. Yet she`d "owned" a large portion of the wall after only a year, was known to be wealthy by the shopkeepers and strict to those under her rule. Brought new people into the city like a clockwork, always wounded, always with ambiguous pasts, always a win for the community. She`d become the wall of Diamond City in a short time and to him had often seemed larger, older, scarier. And after walking into the Switchboard, she`d been a loose ally of the Railroad too, a tourist, but with reach and power far greater. To him, she simply was ambiguous, never sure if she only helped them because their goals aligned with hers. Thinking about what would happen, should that change.  
  
"I sent out Karley and Henschel. They`ll get rid of the connection and stay on the lookout, then follow the Raiders should they show up. We plan to get rid of them if possible."  
  
"Des won`t offer to send units to help with that."  
  
Desdemona and Olivier had been fire and water from the first second, not only due to the fact the latter had practically broken into their hideout, unknowingly or not. They had trouble to agree on tactics, on which information should be passed on and who should care for things gone astray. It was considered an affront that Olivier had denied the possibility to fully work for the Railroad and even worse had been her denial to tell Miles that a second memory wipe was better for him. To Des, both were potential threats, however involved they were because of their knowledge.  
  
"I wouldn’t have expected her to. She likes to leave other people with mopping up her mess. Libertalia is all I say. But anyway, if we find out where those guys built their nest, we`ll get rid of them. They seem to intercept with one of our routes, so I need them gone."  
  
He felt himself nod and the desire to leave grow stronger. The blonde’s mood was fouler than normal, Miles mood seemed to be pretty bad too, and the Wall always put him on edge, cool air or not. They usually were an agreeable lot, but for some time now they all were on edge.  
  
"You know I have to tell her that?"  
  
Olivier shrugged and he took that as a queue to stand up and get his ass over to the prisoner and then out of there. Miles appeared at his side. The guy was simply too quiet for his own good and Mustang silently wished-for Hawkeye to be at his side. He felt safer and happier that way, not to mention that Olivier was always nicer if she was there.  
  
"I`ll show you the way."  
  
He followed the broad-shouldered man through a series of confusing corridors, Olivier remaining alone in the room with a sour expression, until they stood in front of the holding cells, conveniently placed near the entrance. The man was big and muscular and even though they`d decked him out in different clothes, Mustang felt the Raider-vibe radiating off him. It was even worse than usual and felt almost like standing next to one of those second or third generation Raiders. Raised in violence.

He pushed down a shiver.

The dark-skinned man moved from his side and leaned on the wall, watching them.

“Name?”

Mustang had decided for the no-nonsense route, so he could simply jot down the facts. He did not trust the people in the wall fully, but should this guy stay trouble, he`d leave through the door laying down. Wouldn’t be the first to have died of “medical complications”.

His reflexes were trained well and he avoided the spit flying at him.

“I`ll ask you one more time, then I guess that this guy over there will finally snap.”

He jutted his thumb in the general direction of Miles, who was radiating waves of anger directed at the prisoner. He saw the guy follow his thumb, then he looked back to him.

“Name?”

“William Buccaneer.”

Mustang wrote the name down and saw out of the corner of his eye that Miles was sucking up this information too.

“Place of Birth?”

“Vegas.”

It was unsettling just how agitated Miles seemed to grow over at his place on the wall.

“Reason for visiting Diamond City?”

“Crazy bit… women abducting me.”

He refrained from noting that, writing down “trade” instead. He turned to Miles, confirming with a nod that they were done here. The man followed him out, looking ready to punch anybody who dared cross him now. It was unsettling to see him loose his cool so much. He just had to wonder why.

Outside he piped up, under the watchful eyes of several of Olivier`s men and about seven dogs. He wondered where she got them from. The mental image of her walking around with puppies was just too weird.

“Weird guy.”

Miles simply nodded, walking down to the marketplace with him.

“I`ll be gone now, the contact will be established as soon as possible.”

He felt the man`s eyes on him, hidden by dark lenses. He knew them to be red, having to do with what he was.

“Goodbye Mustang. And should you find out something about the guy…”

A last nod and the man was gone. Just vanished into the crowd.

Mustang supressed a shudder.


	5. Chapter 5

“You aren’t the chatty kind, huh?”

They’d found an overall that fit him, a few pieces of combat armour and gave him a pistol, ridiculously small-looking on him, that he could fire one-handed. Strapped a backpack to him and led him out of this shithole of a cell. Out of the city even and when he’d expected them to shackle him to their belt, they didn’t. He’d followed, intrigued. Maybe they needed him as a pack-brahmin for one of their loot-stashes?

The black-haired man with the slicked-back curls was Karley, the blonde one Henschel. And they treated him like he wasn’t a dangerous Raider with a loaded weapon and his hand free. After many miles of walking over those roof-walkways, they’d struck up a conversation and apparently Karley was somewhat keen on him joining in.

“There didn’t seem to be many people wanting to talk with me in my cell.”

He expected the man to get angry at his disrespectful tone, but noticed with surprise that both were chuckling.

“Yeah, well. When Miles says no, we usually obey. He’s not the Sir, but for him to intervene with anything at all is so rare, that we take it to heart most of the time. As long as it doesn’t clash with the Sir’s order at least. Gets dangerous when you have to pick a side.”

Talking with them might prove to be a good distraction, could give him an advantage when they arrived at their destination.

“That Miles’s a scary dude. Seemed way more the boss to me, than that blonde woman.”

It was Henschel answering him, voice sterner than Karley’s, yet with a hidden humour.

“The Sir’s training and steering us all in the right direction, but rather fond of having us figure out the details on our own. Miles is usually on boat with that, but for some reason just really doesn’t like you. Can’t remember an occasion in which he’d so openly said that bringing in someone is a bad idea.”

“Maybe said some shit about that boss-lady that he heard.”

He tried to sound apologetic, but wasn’t feeling it. She’d shot off his arm and if things went his way, she’d pay with more than just being called a bitch for that.

The men answered with quiet laughter.

“That explains everything!”

Karley had a twinkle in his eye, his grin pulling the skin of his face and neck tight. You could see a fine scar over his throat.

“He’s extremely protective of her. It’s been just them for a very long time, so you gotta understand.”

He harrumphed upon this new information, wondering what to do with it, how it could aid him in his quest for revenge. Fighting with this Miles-guy, seemed like a bad idea to him. Yet, he wanted to keep the men in this good mood, carrying on the conversation.

“Tell me, is it normal for you guys to get people into your fold by kidnapping them?”

Keeping his tone jovial, trying to utilize his ability to lie convincingly, he was met with a stern and guarded gaze from Henschel. Knowing that this had been a misstep, that his intentions were at least partly exposed to one of his guards.

The man switched off any undertones, just being stern, even a tad bit threatening.

“You think someone getting you expensive medical treatment after an injury is kidnapping? You were a Raider, what did you think would’ve happened if the Sir had just left you laying outside with your wounds? We all heard the story, you were trying to loot with your gang, would’ve probs killed her for a few caps. Or found worse things to do to her. Everybody at the Wall would’ve rubbed some dirt into your wounds and left, so be happy it was the Sir and not one of us!”

Buccaneer had heard of the guys at Diamond Cities wall before. Smarter than Gunners, stronger than Raiders and more business-oriented than the Red Carawan. They had power-armour, powerful weaponry and a reputation that preceded them. Good or bad, depending on who you asked. And slowly he started to understand, what glued them all together, revelation hitting him.

“She picked you all from the dirties pieces of soil she could find, huh?”

Karley chuckled still, eyebrows raised, forelock swinging.

“Miles was always most irritated with her habit of bringing in strays.”

They wandered in silence after that, Buccaneer pondering. Watching the men before him, suddenly aware that they too, had once been what most thought of as scum. He’d seen the people in Diamond City greet them respectfully when they passed. When night fell, he dared to speak again, thoughts of running away forgotten for the moment.

“Where are we going?”

It was Karley that spoke again, Henschel motioning for them to keep their voices down.

“Not remembering the landscape? We’re on our way to your gangs hiding place.”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat, a feeling of uneasiness sweeping over him.

“And what is the assignment?”

The words spoken sounded even darker, when said by the usually cheerful man.

“Get rid of the nest, with or without your help!”


	6. Chapter 6

Olivier had anticipated that the big guy would have some qualms about shooting up his old “friends”.

It was always like that; however bad the people had been treated by them. They were good enough to change, so they were good enough to forgive too. But those qualms seemed to evaporate quickly, when they started to aim for him just as much, as they aimed for Henschel.

Searching for Karley, always keen on sneaking up from behind, Miles softly touched her shoulder.

“I still think he’s a bad idea, just so you know.”

She did not turn, having found Karley readying some grenades behind a car-wreck.

“You are possessive, aren’t you?”

There was no need to sound cross. It was flattering to some extent even, though she never had reason to doubt his love, such a startling display of jealousy unusual for him. Yet, she could physically feel his face crunch up and had to grin.

“He’s simply fucking dangerous! He told me, that he plans on enacting revenge on you!”

She barked a quiet laugh.

“For what, saving his ass?!”

“I don’t think he sees it that way!”

And finally, she took the binoculars away from her eyes, head resting on her arms, looking at him. She knew that he wore the shades for his own safety, but hated them nonetheless.

“Miles, they all wanted to kill me in the beginning. Even you slept with a knife in your hand. We will resolve the matter like we always do. Either he will help us, or he’ll die! Feel free to watch my back if you so desperately want to, but I guess you are doing that all the time anyways?”

A cat’s clever grin stretched her full lips into a smile, and he felt his anger lessen a bit. They were in control of the situation and it felt good to remember that. They both looked at the battle unfolding below again.

Buccaneers former mates weren’t half bad and even though Karley had managed to put some mines on the ground, he’d been spotted and was under fire know too. He felt her shove the sniper-rifle into his hands and knew that she’d had a bad idea again.

Before he could do anything, she was halfway down the slope and hiding behind some conveniently placed rocks, shooting her rifle with accuracy at the raiders.

Taking off the shades, he got in position and tried to pick as many of their foes off as possible. Henschel, Karley and Buccaneer noticed that they had help and repositioned themselves accordingly. Olivier slipped out behind her rock and hid behind the same wall Buccaneer did, shooting at the Raiders from the other side of it.

Miles shot at one of the mines Karley had placed, blowing up the raiders tiptoeing around it. He wasn’t good enough of a shot to hit a running targets head with this weapon, would rather be in the middle of the fray with his knife, but also took the opportunity to keep his eye on Olivier. It was rare that he could help her so directly in a battle. And noticed just a tad bit too late, that he couldn’t help her from up here, when the situation got dire and couldn’t be helped with a bullet.

He did notice the flame coming out of a barrel just two feet away from her. She didn’t. It would blow up any second and even though he stood up and started to run, the thing exploded before he was even halfway across the field.

Panic rose and the two raiders left, standing in his way, were dispatched in few quick movements. He’d only later see the state he’d left those guys in, not caring how much strength he’d used and going widely overboard with it. He couldn’t fight down the fear of her being dead, hurt beyond help. Luck running out after such a long time.

When he saw that Olivier was indeed on the ground, an almost animalistic scream escaped him. Anger, when he saw that Buccaneer hovering over her. Ready to kill, to rip him apart limb for limb.

And then he heard Olivier cough.

There wasn’t as much blood as usual either.

Relief flooded him and he was by her side quicker than a deathclaw killed a brahmin. He tried to help her up and was glad when she shoved his arm to the side, accompanied by an impatient huff. Still raspy, she spoke.

“Thanks, big guy.”

Her steely eyes trained on Buccaneer, the man squirming under her fierce gaze, Miles understood that someone else had reacted when he couldn’t. Felt that he should say something and yet wasn’t ready to admit that the man, whom he’d painted as the devil only a few minutes ago, had saved her live.

And judging from the look on the man’s face, he couldn’t either.


	7. Chapter 7

“You are not seriously mad that he saved my life, are you?!”

She asked with laughter in her voice, keen on his answer.

They’d fallen back a little, could make out the heavy-loaded backs of the other three in front of them, but just so. Had asked him for a word in private with an exchanged gaze, knowing that Karley and Henschel at least understood. Buccaneer would catch onto it soon enough too, as everybody else belonging to the wall had.

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous!”

He wasn’t looking at her though, bespectacled gaze averted. Spoke through ground teeth, seething with a mix of emotions she had a hard time placing.

She had no doubt that he was glad that she was safe and sound, they were a team for too long to question that, but he was cross still. With the fact that the man he hated with an almost unreasonable passion was the one saving her, or that she now utilized for the umpteenth time this dangerous test of loyalty, she didn’t know.

Maybe it was a bit of booth.

“Then why are you so mad? I can feel the anger from over here.”

Which wasn’t meaning much, really, as she wasn’t walking more than a hand span apart from him.

Saw that he was clenching his jaw, fingers pushing at his glasses, setting them in their place. Maybe his pride was hurt? Or he was still in shock because of the recent battle? She wasn’t sure about either of it, not even sure if that had anything to do with it. Had never been too good with emotions, letting actions speak instead.

His continued silence had her snap.

“Throw me a bone here Miles, you know I’ll never figure it out on my own!”

He walked on a little more than two steps, before noticing that she’d come to a stop. Was standing on unused train-tracks, staring at him, staring at her.

She took in his outfit, black trousers with suspenders, a white shirt underneath, dark pieces of light combat armour above it. The goddamn hat that made him look so ruggedly handsome on his head, slightly cocked to one side. The specks of blood clinging to every piece, from where he’d pummelled the raiders seemingly in passing.

Noticed that the skin on his neck was spasming, that his breathing was a little bit uneven. Felt his posture relax and a sigh escape him, before she saw it.

“He’ll be the death of you Olivier, him and his connections to the west coast!”

He spoke with force, but without anger. Only concern.

“He may have passed your little trust-test, but you could see that he was surprised himself! None of the others ever looked like this, they were convinced at this point that they’d done the right thing. But him, I don’t know Olivier, I really don’t know. He wants to get back at you for his arm, for what you’ve done to his comrades and he’ll want to get back at you for today again! And the ten million caps on your head sounds like a pretty good way for that!”

His distress had her gravitate to him, pale hand closing around his wrist, gripping it tightly. She’d never considered herself especially trustful, until she’d met him and suddenly had a comparison. And while she felt the same about him, feared so many things when he wasn’t by her side, she trusted her own abilities more, his too.

“I can take care of myself Miles, don’t worry.”

She tried to smile, through a layer of dirt and blood and grime. And he looked her in the eye, not smiling himself, but relaxing a fraction.

“That’s so easily said. But you alone, against one of the most powerful men in the west? You’re not invincible!”

“Yeah, but neither am I alone.”

She’d walked on, felt the need to catch up to the rest of the team and pulled him along the first few steps, until he followed by himself.

His thoughts had weighed him down heavily as soon as she’d brought Buccaneer in, had tossed and turned in his sleep even, right next to her, after speaking to the guy for the first time. She’d re-examined her decision, wondered if she’d overlooked something, but could not find anything out of the ordinary.

She’d brought in worse people before, people that had not passed the first few tests that were seen as mandatory at the Wall. Alone at the walking-to-a-set-destination-part, at least half of them had to be shot dead. Fewer survived the destruction of their former gang or crew, if it was an aggressive lot. And a few times even the last test, the mortal-danger-test, had backfired.

Miles fears she’d thought to be rooted in that, tracing the scars of former recruits gone awry.

After a few more miles down, their camp for the night set up and secured, she’d decided to just ask him, his dark mood not lifting.

“What can I do to ease your mind?”

She felt his eyes on her, but wasn’t looking at him, her gaze instead trained on her ration. Heard him shuffle a bit, could almost hear the gears turning in his head, though she’d seen an x-ray once and knew for a fact that there weren’t any. Heard him exhale, attempting to speak three times, before he finally got his request out.

“You’ll let me go on a mission with him, alone.”

Very nearly she choked on her food, eyes snapping to his. In the distance she could hear the others nearing, apparently done with their check-up of the surrounding area.

“You’re not going to just shoot him dead, are you?”

He shook his head, silver ponytail shaking in tune, but the feeling of uneasiness did not let up. It wasn’t that she mistrusted Miles, nor that she mistrusted Buccaneer, but he was an easy target when in a small group. They’d only killed two runners so far and only with plenty of causalities. She did not want him to be almost alone anywhere but near her.

She tried to think about his proposal, but found herself unable to, consumed by the horrible feeling in her gut. Wanted to scream at him for even bringing up an idea like that, just to keep herself from doing so at the last moment. So, this was how he felt half a day ago, huh?

“I’ll choose the objective?”

He shrugged, pleased, but not happy.

“Fine by me.”

When it was her turn to take watch in the darkness, her eyes swept over his face more often than usual.

Not able to shake the feeling of worry.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ideas, suggestions, I'd like to hear anything from you my dears, because honestly: the direction of this fic is still soooooooo open :D

She took her sweet time with deciding on what mission she wanted them to go on.

They’d been back at the Wall for two weeks, she’d send Buccaneer on four small retrieval missions with Henschel during this time and picked up the synth the railroad had promised her, delivering it herself not a day after. When he asked about the mission, she shrugged. Until one afternoon that was, him and Buccaneer shuffling around boxes in a supply-room, a blunder on the chore-schedule leading to them both in there at the same time.

His mood had been bad enough already.

Closed the door behind her and sat down on one of the crates, not at all looking out of place in her red-rocket overall, hair pulled back and up in a high ponytail, welding googles resting on top of her head. He’d seen her work on the power armour in the deep level a few hours ago and wondered if she gave herself a break during this time. Judging by the dark circles under her eyes, she hadn’t.

Felt Buccaneer squirm next to him, not used to an unshielded two-eyed gaze.

“I’ve got a mission for you two!”

A snort to his left, contempt or disbelieve, he didn’t know. Glossed over without commentary by her. He himself feeling a bit guilty for his request all of a sudden, realizing that she’d probably lost sleep over it. Was a fitful sleeper at the best of times anyway and had reclused over the past two weeks often, even insisting on doing the transfer of the synth alone.

Yet, both of them said nothing, waiting.

“Tomorrow morning you’ll head to Abernathy Farm. From there I want you to follow the hidden route to the Miss.”

His face contorted to a grimace. This was far away, a long and dangerous journey. Hinted at a rather long stay, too.

“My last check-up was not even a year ago! And it will take a week at last to get there! Another one to get back here too! Really, what’s gotten into you as of late?!”

Seeing her face, he should’ve waited for her to continue with the actual objective. A regal eyebrow raised, lips pursed and not at all looking impressed, she commanded him with a single “Tch!”, to be quiet.

“You will deliver a parcel to the Miss, as well as parts needed for automail. The procedure will be explained to Buccaneer and if he is in favour of that, installation will take place right away.”

Miles was fuming, but the big man’s curiosity got in-between her and his anger.

“I may sound dumb now, but what the hell is automail?”

“In short: Artificial limbs. An engineer of the commonwealth found a way to reuse parts of Gen-1 and Gen-2 synths and build working protheses out of them. They will not even strangle you in your sleep.”

And while Buccaneers hand was ghosting over his stump, he got the words out that had lodged into his throat only seconds before.

“And you expect me to stay there for the full implementation?! That’s weeks! What if someone attacks, what if the institute plans to kidnap you?”

She was just a second away from silencing him, but Buccaneer beat her to it.

“Geez, calm down lover-boy! I`d say she can hold her own.”

He was giddy. He was looking god damn happy and was god damn smiling. Olivier was looking at him all the while pointedly, fed up.

“You’ll leave before sunrise and take Nuka with you. The mutt will get her leg replaced too if possible. Karley will supply you, no power armour for this one, I want you laying low. The Miss knows that you are coming, so I expect you to hurry before she changes her passcodes. Radio in when you get there!”

Left without preamble then, angry.

Weren’t his concerns valid? Leaving her alone for such a long time felt dangerous to him, especially after the last long solo mission had directly led to this long solo stay here. And she’d not stay at the wall, she’d surely travel around, do jobs and deliver packages. Get herself in trouble. Bring in at least seven new dogs while she’s at it.

Leaving Buccaneer to find someone who could tell him more about the procedure, he wandered the halls too, not able to find her.

Wandered the city after, mulling over his thoughts. He’d asked her for a mission with the guy, had hoped for something quiet, so he could dispose of him if he needed to. This was something else. This would be weeks holed up together. No way to reach her properly, to watch out for her.

He wondered when he’d become so protective. Maybe should get his circuits checked if he was there already.

She had him sleep on the couch that night, still in their shared room, but at the opposite end of it. Not only her eyes judging her, but also those of at least five dogs, sleeping where he usually did.

If there was a fight, they always took her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Read and Review folks :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your kind words :D This fic is a lot of fun to write and the short-chapter structure I'm using in this one really lends itself to cool situations, so never be shy if you want to see a certain element from either Game or Anime implemented ;)
> 
> Love you all!

“Sooooo… what the hell are you?!”

He was trying to make friendly conversation, he really did. They’d started walking about a week ago, the man next to him utterly too quiet for his liking. Miles was brooding clearly, snappy and angry, though he had to admit that he’d never seen him any different. The only times his face lit up a little, were when the little mutt the blonde had insisted them to take was licking at his face, fond of kissing when she could reach them.

The furry white thing was zig-zagging from left to right, sniffing anywhere she could reach. Seemed to walk well, even with the missing right hind-leg, seemed happy to be on the road. It was small, colour impractical and seemed way to friendly, especially when compared to the other mutts at the wall. He’d walked what was called the dog-row, where plenty of pillows and mattresses laid out. Seen the cut-outs from pre-war dog books. Nuka was as close to what had been called a West Highland White Terrier as you could get in a land riddled with radiation.

Ignoring his question, Nuka still hopping around, Miles just turning angrier.

“That’s none of your business!”

It wasn’t that he particularly liked the man, he really liked no one at the wall as of yet, but he at least respected them. They quite clearly were his best option at the moment, at a job, at caps and even at friends. Would let time show him what to do he’d decided, after rooting out the raiders that left him to die. He’d saved her life there, the blonde lady everybody called Sir. Realised a few hours later that the situation had been rigged, albeit still dangerous.

The gal was what had made him walk the whole distance back with them. Stayed for the respect they now met him with when back at the wall.

He was appointed missions, got to know the people, was given a room, armour and a weapon. He’d get a new arm, though he wasn’t sure how yet. And somehow, for some reason, he was met with trust. Such a long way out, he could just run with the thousands worth of caps he wore in supplies. Get it over with and kill the man traveling with him. Instead he wanted to get to know him a little.

The fear of the guy turning around and just killing him growing smaller with every day.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re all mysterious and hate me, I get it. Listen, I’m just trying to make things easier here.”

Another bout of silence, only holding for a few short moments.

“You really want to know, or are you just trying to garner more information to sell?”

“I’m really just curious. I mean, you smashed a concrete wall with a bare fist, so….”

To his surprise, the man spoke. Tone and expression neutral, a condition worded before the start of his story.

“You tell me about your life before coming to the Commonwealth in return?”

He nodded, sensing that this was a dangerous bargain, but listened, eyes on the road.

“I’m a prototype of some sort, built by the institute. Probably somewhere between Gen-2 and Gen-3 Synths. Was a normal human guy according to everybody who screened me, augmented on with more and more synthetic parts. Almost every muscle in my body is reinforced with cybernetic and armour plating on bones. My eyes are full of tech, my chest if full of tech and sometimes I think the only thing that’s really me is my hair.”

Buccaneer listened, trying to comprehend. More questions popping up with every answer he got. Biting back a comment about the man’s ridiculous hairline.

“I’ve got no idea how old I am, only a rough estimate possible, based upon the tech installed. I’m stronger and quicker than the average human and am, according to the Miss we’re visiting, riddled with sensors, which improve my reaction greatly. The only thing not touched upon with tech is my brain and as soon as the Institute threw me onto the trash, people meddled with that too.”

He'd told this story at least three or four times, words sounding practiced. Decided to just ask his questions, not dance around the topic.

“Who meddled with your brain?”

The man sighed deeply.

“The Railroad, you heard of them, right?!”

Saw glasses turn towards him, nodded quickly. He had a concept at least.

“Wanted to “save me from the Institute”, by erasing my memories and getting me somewhere far away. Botched it apparently, because I remember little before running from them. Sometimes get jumbled memories from someone I can’t relate to, my own really only kicking in since New York.”

Buccaneer wondered a bit, how much the man could talk if the flood gates were open, because he’d not said as many words to him in his whole time at the wall altogether. It making him a little bit nervous if he was honest, because so much information came at a price and not just that of his own past. Wondered if he’d survive the night, if he let Nuka sleep on his chest?

“And in New York you met the Sir?”

Refrained from using her first name, the men at the wall having stressed to him that this was a privilege offered, not taken. Only knew about New York because of Henschel, who’d mentioned Miles and the Sir having come to Boston from there.

“Don’t ask me how I got there, I honestly don’t remember. Just basically woke up there, wounded, Olivier stitching me up. Travelled together ever since.”

He’d seen love before, dedication to one another. Understood now, that she was everything he had, the reason for his hostility after he’d uttered his first threat against her. She was the glue holding the parts of him together.

“Ever wondered if she’d been the one that wounded you in the first place?”

Expected anger, instead getting a shrug.

“Sometimes. But it really doesn’t matter now, at least not to me. It led to the Wall, a lot of dogs, plenty of friends and a warm bed. I’m not searching for reasons to complain.”

Gave himself a moment to swallow these words, to let them sink in. The knowledge that circumstances could be given so little meaning when one powered through them, gnawed at him a little.

Nuka hopped around, stopping suddenly and barking. Sat on a hatch made of metal, well-hidden under some bushes, looking proud of herself. The words slipped from his mouth without thinking.

“Good girl!”

White tail wagging.


	10. Chapter 10

She did barely reach the man’s hip.

Olivier had said on the radio that he was tall, that she’d sent up thrice the material usually needed for him, but she’d thought the woman to be overestimating. Was astounded when there was five-times the material on her desk after greeting the two men and the dog, the latter rather fond of kissing her.

Certain that it would be more than enough, even for the dog too. And to think that the Lady had attached a letter, telling her to keep the rest, along with generous payment.

Settled the guys in.

Miles was an old friend. A fascinating experiment too. She’d fixed a leg of his once, where the tech had acted up often, leading to muscle-spasms. Was fascinating on the inside and rather pleasant to look at when stitched close again too. Struck her as pragmatic, funny and charming.

Not as moody as he was now.

The big guy she’d not met yet, so huge she’d surely not forgotten if she had. Greeted her politely, though there was something wild about him. Made a mental note to not let her granddaughter be alone with him for now. But the little dog, Nuka, seemed to like him all the same and Den too was friendly. Introduced Winry to them, the girl curious while they ate lunch together.

“How did you lose the arm?”

Fork hovering in the air at that, a stray noodle falling downwards and into an already waiting mouth. She’d installed Nuka’s port two days ago, letting Winry take the lead. The girl was smart and willing to learn. Too curious for her own good too, though the big man seemed to be undecided whether he should answer truthfully or not.

Decided on the former.

“Got it shot off by the same woman who pays for the new one.”

Winry had always been rather pragmatic.

“Seems fair.”

And that had been the end of discussion. The next morning, they woke up Buccaneer early, Nuka sleeping on his chest, for surgery. Installed his port without much trouble, though she was quite startled by the tattoos on his chest. Knew the symbols the Great Khans of the east wore, though she tried to push her unease down. If Olivier send the guy, she had to trust him.

Took the lead this time around, Winry not trained enough to take the lead on a human. Was still tired too, working on the dog’s leg all through the night.

And when Buccaneer had woken up again, Miles having tried for the hundred time to unsuccessfully radio Olivier again after his initial call to inform her of arriving here, they connected Nuka’s leg.

Called the men to her for that, so Winry would have an audience. Made it a bit harder for the girl with that, but knew that this situation could occur when she started her travels, that she needed to stay calm in such a situation too. Nuka sat calmly on the table, watching her curiously.

The connecting of the nerves was the most painful part for a human, but Pinako felt downright awful about it when they did it with a dog. The poor animals did not understand where the pain came from, could not prepare and brace themselves.

The animal yelped horribly, did only stay on the table because both, Buccaneer and Miles were holding her there. When Winry was done, they let the dog go.

Nuka ran and hid, only coming out from under the porch after several hours, coaxed out by the two neighbouring boys, who ran and played with her.

Talked with the men afterwards, took in the big guys pale face. The arm would take a week more to make at least, the port two more to heal. Saw that the man feared the pain a little, though was giddy at the prospect of having an arm again. Had seen Nuka run again with the kids chasing her and her chasing the kids, how well she hopped and jumped and sidestepped, getting used to the leg in no time.

Watched Miles, calm on the surface but angst bubbling underneath. Took him to the side after the Elric-Boys had left for home, Winry in bed too, as well as Buccaneer and Nuka, the latter sleeping on top of the former.

“Tried to radio the Lady again?”

Her voice croaked a bit more with every year she gained. The man grunted noncommittally before speaking.

“Got through, but apparently she’s still on a mission.”

“And you don’t like that?”

Looked at him thoughtfully, getting a pipe ready.

“Can’t protect her that way, can I?”

“Says you, the one test-subject the Institute wants to have back so desperately that they send a runner as close to diamond city as they dared.”

It was no lie. Runners were Synths too, so well done that they were indistinguishable from normal humans. But they were stronger and faster and deadly. She knew no one besides the Walls crew to ever have fought one and won.

“It’s not as bad when something happens to me.”

“I’d say she thinks about that quite differently.”

Which sent him into a deep silence.

She took a deep breath and puffed out some smoke not too long after.

“In a week we’ll install Buccaneers arm. So, I’d say two more weeks and you can travel back.”

Made up his mind while leaning on the porch, looking up into the night sky.

“Can you run a diagnosis while we’re here? Having some issues lately.”

“Muscle-spasms again? The Lady angry at you for kicking her in your sleep?”

Sighed, normally would have laughed at the joke but the matter feeling too dire for him.

“Anger issues is more like it. Feeling too emotional as of late.”

And when the small woman scoffed, he turned to look. Her face was a smile, her gaze one dripping with cheek.

“Oh dear, we need no diagnosis for that. You just love a lot. Could probably fix that.”

Spoke with humour and honesty.

“But I won’t.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in quick succession, because I won't be able to post unil Wednesday! I hope you don't mind^^

“Ew, Nuka, now stop it!”

The big man’s tone of voice making it clear that he wanted the exact opposite.

Nuka had gotten used to her automail-leg quickly, once she got over the initial pain. Was running around happily, the only thing different her taking more breaks. Pinako had told him that this was normal, that she had to still feel sore and that too much movement hurt. When they went on their journey home tomorrow, they were to carry her when she showed signs of exhaustion.

Was kissing Buccaneer with vigour, the man trying to hold her off two armed now, still failing miserably.

“You need to be stern with her!”

Felt himself smile a little. Nuka did not love easily, was picky when it came to people, but if she did it was wholly and with all the slobber her tongue had to offer. Was a good girl, obeyed all commands and had a lot of fight in her. The last one against a huge mole-rat had cost her the leg. The ugly, naked hybrid thing had bitten too deeply, and he’d not seen Olivier that upset in a long while.

The thought about her having his heart ache, with longing and guilt. They hadn’t made up before leaving, had only spoken over the radio once since then. Worried for her, eternally glad that they’d be on their way back home tomorrow. To her.

“How do you expect me to resist this smile?!”

The man’s laughter giving him a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, never heard like this before. Felt a question bubble to the surface, wondering why he’d forgone asking it for so long.

“You promised to tell me about your past.”

Buccaneer suddenly able to only have Nuka play with his hands, face un-kissed. Looked at him, head cocked to the side, shrugging.

“What do you know about the Great Khans?”

Was a bit jealous at how easy it seemed to be for the man.

“It’s a tribe not unlike raiders, though better equipped and with a long history. You have your own culture, but were greatly decimated by the NCR in some battle. There was talk of you becoming a part of Caesar’s Legion, before they were defeated at hoover dam. Apparently, Khans are brutal.”

The man nodding, the braid supplied by young Winry this morning swinging from left to right.

“Sums it up pretty well. Some bloke convinced my father not to believe the guy the Legion send, so we wandered further towards Wyoming, away from the NCR. Growing up wasn’t easy within the tribe though, the talk about us being brutal does not cover the half of it.”

Did not interrupt the man, against his will having to admit that he was enthralled by the tale, told in a raspy voice.

“For breakfast you got hit over the head and for lunch a boot to the ass. Drugs are everywhere, weapons and quick fists too. It was fine as long as I didn’t know that there was anything else, but when outsiders came by, I started to think. Was pretty big pretty fast and fed better than the rest to, son of the boss and all.”

Found the punchline with precision, his own voice tainted with a grim kind of humour.

“But you were also one of the smart ones?”

The big man grunting in affirmation.

“You do not suggest doing things different than the boss, not even as his son. I remember my father discussing if our tribe should maybe pick up a job offered by a big-shot of the New California Republic. His daughter was kidnapped, or ran off or something. They even showed us a picture, pretty little thing.”

Suddenly looked to the floor, face showing that he was having a revelation of some sort.

“Blonde hair, blue eyes, pleasant face. Rifle and…. Armstrong! That was the guy’s name! Armstrong! The boss, she’s… now that I think about it, it must’ve been her!”

The sinking feeling in his gut having his face turn to a stony mask, while Buccaneer now seemed at a loss for words.

“Fuck!”

The expletive rolling of Buccaneers tongue pretty much one with his own sentiment on the matter.

“So, you know who she is?”

Tone cold, his eyes slits.

“Armstrong is the biggest land-owner west of Nevada! He’s searching for his daughter far and wide! We need to fucking get back to her, she’s in a world of danger at the moment!”

Felt his heart beat faster, not able to tell if the man was honest with his urgency. With his underlying tone of _worry_.

“Why?”

The question simple, the answer given to it too. Buccaneers motive clear, though he decided not to feel too secure.

“Because I was told to get my ass out of there when I voted to not get involved, that’s why! He’d been searching for years, down there everybody knows. If she got away this long, she’s dangerous, told my father as much!”

“But aren’t we a thousand miles and more away, out of their reach?”

The big guy almost ready to get up again, though night had already fallen, leaving now not only dangerous, but downright foolish.

“If I got here, they can’t be far! You know what I’m capable off, what kind of person I am! You want ten of those trying to get to her?”

Felt the fear inside of him rise to almost unbearable levels. Could hardly thank the man for his honesty, for the self-reflection he showed. Would have gotten up again, if it weren’t for Pinako, standing in the doorway, telling them to wait for morning.

Could hardly sleep, was packed and ready at daybreak, Buccaneer at his back. They said their farewells, walked quickly, Nuka running around them, feeling the tension.

A question bubbling forth that gnawed at him since morning.

“I can barely fathom what you must’ve been through. How can you act so happy at the wall?”

Was brutally honest, amazed, now that he knew some more. Living in this post-nuclear wasteland was a chore, many had it bad. But he couldn’t imagine being abused twenty-four hours a day, every day. How someone could survive that, become a better man after enduring something like this.

Felt a bit remorseful for the way he treated the man, not trusting him fully yet, but more at least.

Buccaneer only laughed gruffly.

“A little respect goes a long way, cyber-boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send me a line if you liked it, folks^^


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this one implies the occurance of rape, though not outright stating it. I am not to sure which tag to use in this case, so if anyone knows, please send me a message :/  
> If you cannot read something like that: Stay safe and don't scroll down!
> 
> Well...

Diamond City wasn’t too far away by now, their journey back home uneventful.

Their conversation turned friendlier, though they often saved their breath for long periods of time, walking with a quick step. Nuka bounded about, often carried by him, getting used to her new leg faster than he did to his arm.

The new appendage looking weird, though equipped with plenty of sensors, feeling decidedly real for something he could hear little wheels whizzing in. But the arm was strong, precise and while they walked he often flicked his metal-fingers about, trying to get a better feel for them. Noticed how much it hurt when they lay down at night, daily extortions feeling like someone wanted to severe the prothesis from his shoulder. Pinako had warned him.

The last fire before they arrived back at the Wall was burning, three cans of cram standing above it, warming up.

There’d been something on his mind for quite some time now.

“You were scared to leave the Sir alone at the Wall because of her past, but you did not seem as aware of dangers until I talked to you. Why is that?”

The man looking up, shades put away in the privacy of the ramshackle, abandoned building. Exhaling through his nose loudly.

“Well, you said the Khans probably coming for her are brutal and dangerous, so of course I worry for her wellbeing. I mean, her father sending henchmen to get her back home is equally awful, but the guys at the Wall are strong, we could counter a kidnapping attempt. A kidnapping-attempt by the others though, could see her hurt before we get to her.”

Looked Miles in the eye, his own narrowed, nose crinkled.

“And what makes you think that this would not be the case with any other party coming here, trying to get her back for the reward?”

The other man tilting his head to the side, brows furrowing. A smile playing along his lips, not out of amusement, but to ease the mounting tension.

“Her father wants her alive and well, that much we know form reliable sources. And that would mean that even if she were to be abducted, she’d survive it.”

Felt his eyes widen when it hit him that Miles didn’t know everything. Maybe acted, tried to withhold the truth, Buccaneer now asking carefully, just to gauge the man’s reaction.

“You know why she left home?”

The other shrugging.

“Her father wanted her to marry a big-shot from the NCR, a General of sorts. She refused and fled shortly after….”

Miles stopping when he saw his face, looking unsure all of a sudden. Saw the question in red eyes, not knowing if his words may break something. If the truth may not have a place in this wasteland, would make it darker again. If he maybe stole away one of the things that made Miles into the man, he was.

Gulped audibly before speaking.

“The General of the NCR demanded to be married to the Sir, hoping to join families with the wealthiest land-owner of the entire west coast. They abducted her was what I heard, that the old Armstrong would never have given her away against her wishes. Conducted a mockery of a wedding, hoping to get through with it.”

Took a deep breath, almost shakily, though he’d told worse things before, seen worse things before. The sight of the man in front of him, enthralled by his tale, but also shaking with whatever feeling inside of him almost pitiful.

Spoke on, wondering if it would’ve been better to just keep his mouth shut.

“Word of mouth has it that the guy tried to consummate the marriage, though that’s where the retellings differ. It’s only known that they found General Raven on a bed come morning, bare, sliced open from head to toe. They’d thought it to be a good idea to decorate the room with her family sword apparently, thinking she wouldn’t know how to use it. The girl was nowhere to be found, barely sixteen at the time. Even we heard the tale in our tents, from merchants wandering by…”

Miles shook, eyes glossy, looking at him, but at the same time looking through him.

“And this General, he was important?”

“General Raven was so important, that if she were to be put on trial after the laws of the republic, death would be certain.”

Red irises zooming in on him again, a shiver running down his spine at the intensity of the gaze.

“And your father, your clan, wanted to get her back to her father? He had a plan?”

Shook his head, the dread pressing on his stomach, his lungs.

“Another man offered more money, offered freedom in exchange for her. A man with the flag of the New California Republic on his chest. A Khan always takes the best offer.”

Looked away, almost ashamed.

He’d left, but the laws of the wasteland didn’t change because of it. Justice was in the hands of the normal people, the NCR acting like a government in their parts or not. They’d done something wrong, had turned what he presumed to once have been a normal young woman into the Sir, the Wall of Diamond City, having Raiders and everybody else piss their pants in fear alike. They were those in power half the world away and they were coming for her.

Miles deserved the truth.

His question though, was different from what he expected. There was no anger, no disbelieve. Only confusion.

“Why didn’t she tell me?”

Buccaneer understanding that Miles loved her anyway.

Feeling almost jealous.


	13. Chapter 13

The rumbling came clearly from below them.

She’d gone with Henschel and a handful others to investigate, had taken Slocum and two of the younger dogs with her too. Several people had reported movement of an unidentified creature to the east of the city, dangerously close by the wall. Guards send out to investigate hadn’t been found. Caravans traveling through the area had told her of their brahmins getting spooked.

And it took quite a lot to spook the average brahmin.

Her dogs were acting agitated, sniffing about, the two younglings walking around with their tails set firmly between their legs, almost quivering with fear. Secured the perimeter while her team readied the mines in a wide circle around a gully cover in the middle of the crossroads. Was silently glad for Mustang stopping her when they moved out, telling her that Hawkeye would have their backs, positioned at Trinity Tower.

Heard the snort of something big beneath her feet, echoing through the sewer. Felt the earth tremble a little, getting into position with the others. Called back the dogs and watched, as Henschel opened up the bag with the bait they brought, the sweet smell of rot quickly engulfing the air around them. Saw him sprint to cover, ready his weapon. And flinch, like they all did, when the beast came out of an alley almost silently, not from the gully cover like they’d expected.

She’d never seen a deathclaw standing taller than ten feet up until now and stared almost in awe.

The hunchbacked reptilian-mutant walked towards the bait slowly, on two feet, avoiding their mines deliberately. The huge head with the powerful and long horns raised in the air, sniffing audibly. Was silently glad that she’d forced everybody into the gear they’d prepared for such occasions, to mask their smell. Were well out of sight too, the creature depending more on hearing and smell. Watched as it got down to all fours, jaws gripping the carcass they brought, snapping bones without trouble.

Watched the tail swish about on the asphalt, deep ridges showing her just how thick the beasts hide was, how hard it would be to penetrate this kind of skin with the weapons they brought. Saw as the thing rubbed its claws together, the sound one of blades singing against the other, turning them sharper. Was almost blinded by the sun reflecting of the beasts’ bright hide, never having seen an albino deathclaw before.

It had been likely that the beast they were hunting for would be a deathclaw. She’d not have thought it to be such an outstanding one, though.

Knew that retreat was futile with how close they were, but that sooner or later the beast would feel them being there too. Was astounded anyways, that it went for the food, even though it had noticed their mines. And decided to use all the surprise they could get, hoping it would do them some good.

Gave a silent hand sign and got subtle nods from all directions in return, readying her weapon.

The gas-grenade thrown at the beasts powerful and clawed feet went off with a bang and lots of smoke, in the hopes to hinder the deathclaws two most important senses. Opened fire together with the others, trying to ignore the flip of her stomach when the beast screeched in rage.

Saw the swipe of claws parting the dispersing smoke, and two of her men ducking out of sight quickly. Watched how the beast still stepped about carefully, reluctant to set off their mines, apparently. Used that, along with her men, to aim for the beast’s head.

The skin around eyes and snout was the most tender, their best chance at getting a quick kill. And the thing seemed to know that, shielded itself with its claws. Their bullets ricocheting off of its skin, useless. Whistled for her dogs, the two young ones giving the thing a wide berth, barking from a safe distance, Slocum being braver.

The old mutt went close, while they supressed the deathclaw’s attacks with well-aimed shots to its head. Had done something like that often by now, though this beast was harder than every other before it, stronger and, by the way it turned its head to a direction none of them were directly positioned, smarter.

Swiped at the dog, who yelped once, but did not relent in its attacks. Drove the beast, blinded again by their shots, towards the rim of their mine-ring. Closer and closer with each step, until she was so very sure that he’d step on one himself.

Heard herself whistle, as desperate as she could, Slocum immediately turning tail, running and jumping behind the wall she was using as cover. Tried not to look at the blood seeping from his back, focusing on the battle instead. And just when she peeked her head above the concrete, she saw a glint coming from Trinity Tower.

“TAKE COVER!”

Pressed Slocum to her, hoping for the best, when all sound was exchanged for the bangs of one mine setting the others off.

Made a mental note to get Hawkeye whatever she wanted for that, feeling Slocum squirm against her and the roar of the beast become more pronounced over the fading noise of explosives. Let go of her rifle, grabbing her sword instead and closing in through the smoke, the white shadow of the deathclaw moving within.

Ducked and sidestepped its clawed feet, barely feeling the sudden stinging of her back in the heat of the moment.

Grabbed her sabre, the one thing that’s been by her side since she could remember, unsheathing it, the sound alone having Henschel’s voice rise over the others, ordering them to stand back.

Climbed up the thing, hands finding the ridges of scales and holding on, pulling up. Rode out the trashing of the beast, not letting herself be thrown down.

And when she stood as securely as one could atop a trashing animal, she swiped at its neck.

How red the blood seemed to be against the white hide was the last thing on her mind when she tumbled down with the beast, catching herself and stepping away quickly. Watched the big, beheaded body slump to the ground, sword brandished and dripping, with the rest of her team. Swiped the blade after catching her breath, sheathing her weapon again and shouting orders.

“Find the hole it came from! Came up way too quickly for the food, was probably hatching some eggs. We need to destroy them!”

Paid the holes the mines had left in the streets little mind, visually confirming that all of her men were alright, one already bandaging Slocum’s wounds, telling her with a kind smile that they were superficial, nothing more. Went to bandage her back too, she only then feeling the sensation of ridges left by long claws on her back, burning and stinging. The unpleasant sensations of blood seeping into your pants.

Went to inspect the nest, when the man was done.

Finding several eggs, carcasses of brahmins, humans and a dog. Gear strewn throughout, weapons and ammunition alike. Watched as Henschel himself got the eggs outside and burned them, no one wanting to risk an infestation of deathclaw’s in the area. Ordered everybody besides the aforementioned Henschel to stay here, stand guard over their spoils, identify the remains if possible and wait for the back-up.

They were to transport the carcass and the spoils to Diamond City, as well as the remains found in the nest. She’d see to it that a pit was set up and the meat of the animal roasted. It would spoil in the sun anyways and this way they could share with all that have been terrorized by its presence the last few days.

Not to mention, that deathclaw tasted not even half-bad.

On their way back, only her, Henschel and Slocum now, she was the first to notice the little ball of fluff staggering around. Walked over without saying a word, crouching down and not caring for her burning back in this moment. Hand outstretched, waiting. Smiling for the first time in weeks when the little thing came to her, pushing its grimy fur into her skin, making content noises when her fingers scratched ears and nose and neck.

Felt a pang when she recognised the colour of the fur as the same she’d seen only minutes ago.

Smile widening when after a little sound from the puppy, several others came running from a crack in a wall. Dug around for a ration in her pack and the rope she always carried, already set on taking them with her. Got ready to crawl into the tiny opening and look if there were more, too shy to come out when they were around, Henschel stopping and doing it for her, coming up with two more.

Knowing better than to say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear non-Fallout-Player readers, google "albino deathclaw", because I think my description did not do it any justice ;)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a long wait, but I hadnt wanted to post while LivMilesWeek was still in full swing :D Here, take two chapters for that ;)  
> And remember, comments and kudos are like hugs :D

The smell of roasted meat was intoxicating.

Had watched with many others, when the carcass of the beast was carried into the city. Already hacked into pieces easier to handle, wrapped in cloth. Got called to the mayor concerning the matter, quickly pulling together what he’d already heard from the Sir and Hawkeye, making it up on the fly that the former wanted to celebrate the slaying of the deathclaw. Honour those of Diamond City that had fallen to it.

The mayor swallowed this half-truth, allowed it and he wondered how to explain it to the blonde.

Went to find her, only to get told by Henschel that she was at the doctors currently, getting stitched up. The man quite overwhelmed with keeping in check seven puppies and at the same time organizing how the tables were to be set up. Mustang lending him a hand while waiting for the Sir, building an improvised fence for the puppies to run around in, after that helping with carrying around chairs and tables.

Hawkeye soon falling into step beside him, helping too, having changed and at the same time put away the more obvious weapons at their house. Looked smart in the black trousers with the suspenders, not like she was an undercover-railroad-agent. Played with the puppies when nothing more was left to do, him sitting close by, watching her.

And when the first pieces of meat were ready, the market had filled up nicely.

People were frisky, kids were running around and for a second he could forget that a huge deathclaw had sniffed about near the city. Had built a nest already, according to Henschel, had already lain eggs. With night slowly falling Diamond City looking almost beautiful, strings of light and shop-signs lightning up all around.

Somebody played music, drinks were brought out and not long after, the doc finally released the Sir from his rooms. Saw that the man had apparently let her use his shower, was almost unbelievably clean when one remembered that she’d been bathed in blood not long ago, wearing a dark blue overall one of her man had brought her. Wet, blonde hair bound in a high ponytail, moves a little bit stilted.

He had already heard that there’d be scars, wondered how Miles would react to that.

Had asked repeatedly over the last few weeks where the man was, not getting an answer from her. From nobody, the only one who knew anything Hawkeye, having seen him and their new guy wander north together. Hawkeye, who was playing with the puppies still, smiling absentmindedly while doing so, joined by the Sir. Watched the woman squat down, swarmed by puppies and a bandaged Slocum.

He was within earshot and had learned to never be ashamed of eavesdropping. The joys of growing up by his aunt.

“How are you, Sir?”

The other woman laughing slightly, true mirth showing, something that never happened with him. The Puppies balling around her, sniffing and licking and knowing full-well who saved them from certain death. Thought of the loyalty her men offered her and smiled to himself.

“I had worse. Would’ve had worse, if there hadn’t a bird of prey landed on one of our mines to set them off.”

Hawkeye was good at concealing her true identity, was known as the daughter of a solitary scientist to most of the city, the nice girl working at the bar when her father went missing, now known as his girlfriend. And though there were, thanks to whatever that was up in the sky, no lies within all of that, it hid huge parts of the complete truth well. The work for the Railroad, the top-view of the City she had. Where someone moved, when, were the things she knew best. How to talk, so no one would become suspicious.

This time, by letting Olivier talk some more.

“Would’ve given the bird all the meat it craved, though I don’t know if it would’ve wanted that. What birds want anyways.”

Which was a weirdly worded thank you, nothing short of a proposal of a reward. And while he waited for Hawkeye to decline this generous offer, or to take a pick, ask any favour from the Wall of Diamond City, his girlfriend did not have to think long about it.

“The black and white one!”

Thought for a second that Olivier would decline, fickle with her dogs, whatever Miles tried to say on the matter. And then he heard her snort, Slocum wriggling about her feet, showing the puppies proper behaviour.

“He shall be yours when he’s old enough.”

Him trying to throw Hawkeye a sceptical look, silenced by her bringing the puppy over for him to inspect. Would deny with his dying breath that it was the cutest being he’d ever seen, small and fat and clumsy. Black and white, ears and tail pointing upwards. Paws big, a sure-fire sign for a dog that had a lot more growing to do.

And when another hour passed, he saw people come in through the city’s gates, a small white shadow bounding towards them. The white dog the Sir owned jumping up and down her legs, kissing every centimetre of skin it could reach, greeted ecstatically, while he watched the two missing men approach.

The taller, Buccaneer, seeming calmer than before he left, artificial arm where his stump had been, explaining where they’d been for so long. Was ready to bite himself in the ass for not thinking about her having send them to Miss Rockbell. Miles walking next to him, shades on, tense, steps straight and sure.

Walked over the market, not greeting anybody, eyes set on the Sir, who had gotten up, smiling, the white dog walking off to sceptically inspect the puppies.

“Hey Miles…”

A smile in her voice, happiness, everything cut short by him.

Took her face in her hands and kissed her, passionately. Her at first unsure arms winding around him, pulling him closer, the market around them growing quiet, staring. Both of them not stopping when someone whistled, nor when Buccaneer not so discreetly coughed, but when they ran out of air, his arms falling to her shoulders.

Breathlessly she tried to repeat herself.

“Hey Miles…”

Failing miserably, starting to laugh, when he saw the puppies and his expression changed to disbelieve.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaand the second one <3

She’d known the second he walked up to her, that something was amiss.

And while the kiss had been nice, incredible even, it had been an unusual and excessive public show of emotion. Not to mention the wolf-whistles afterwards. Or the berating her for bringing in puppies, but then playing with them thing. How he almost clung to her side the entire evening, unsaid things, messy feelings swirling inside of him.

Yet, he’d remained tight-lipped even when they went to bed, him giving her a rundown of the mission, their stay at Pinako’s and delivered greetings from the old lady. She told him about what she’d been up to, of the missions she went on, that everything went well. Not able to coax the matter that had him radiating a mix of feelings out, unsettled by that a little.

Thought that he maybe had to get over the way he’d treated Buccaneer before the mission, Miles always having been someone that was hard on himself, and easy on others. He overthought things, wanted to be too careful, too perfect. His willingness to always do what he thought was right often threatening his wellbeing.

And only when the night took a turn, their time apart long, the way they’d separated so many weeks ago wrong, she understood.

Let him shove her overall down to bunch around her hips, let him inspect the wounds the deathclaw brought upon her. Shivered when he let his fingertips ghost over them, murmuring how strong she had to be, to slay such a beast. Berated her a little, lovingly, for always getting so angry when someone hurt her beloved dog Slocum.

Should have noticed how differently he touched her, kissed her. How carefully he suddenly spoke.

Instead she only understood when time came for her to lose her pants completely, him hesitating.

The revelation hitting her like a ton of bricks, that he knew the truth.

Was up and gone, pacing, feeling like she was about to be sick.

“How did you find out?!”

Was too loud, her voice shaking too much. Suddenly had the images flashing before her again. The way the man smiled, the sounds he made. The blood. Felt her stomach coil, her heart race. Tried to push the past down again, where it had rested for so many years.

He was walking towards her, hands outstretched, her backing away. It stopped him dead in his tracks. Saw him take a deep breath, shaking too.

“We… Buccaneer and I talked about his past on our mission. Why he came here, how his life was before. Told me that he left the Khans after a falling out with the chief, his father. That he’d advised him not to take on a mission offered to them. And while we talked he remembered what the mission was about, that he’d been shown a photo and… that it was you… and why you fled the Republic and…”

Was shocked when he cried, his tears pulling her out of her memories. Standing in the middle of the room, shaking, tears running down his face, staring at her.

Wanted to walk over, to make it stop, to make him feel good again, but his mouth opening to speak stopped her. The fear that he’d not want her again.

“Olivier, I love you, please don’t forget that. The second I’ve first seen you I loved you already. I don’t care about anything, as long as you’re alright, please, I didn’t mean to…”

Could not take it anymore, and felt her feet moving again.

For a second he was totally slack, seemed unsure what to do, but then he hugged her back. And she was trying his hardest to pull him into her, wanted to have him under her skin if possible, impossibly close and then a bit closer. Felt his tears when her cheek brushed against his, feeling her own retreat for the time being. Shivered still, he too, feeling his heartbeat against her chest.

He’d been the first man she loved like she did, had shown her friendship first, togetherness, happiness. Later showed her love like no other, a world she’d not known existed. They’d never lied, not knowingly, only left out parts of the truth. She regretted that now.

His whisper was so quiet, she almost missed it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The truth tumbling forwards, murmured into his neck, supressed for so long.

“I feared you’d walk away. No one wants damaged goods, no one wants someone broken. But I already loved you, I couldn’t have lived with you leaving…”

His forehead coming to rest against hers, eyes locking, blue on red and red on blue. His words not taking her pain away, but easing it.

“I’d never leave you, whatever may have happened to you, whatever will in the future. I love you too much for that!”

Stood in silence for a long time, in the middle of their room, holding the other. Only went to bed when they grew cold, Miles arms winding around her, keeping her close to him. And when he looked into her eyes, the question in them, she told him the truth.

Not leaving anything out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Read and Review guys, Fallout is such an extensive universe, I'm always glad for ideas and comments :D


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that this is the last of the past-centered ones and that the angst-trip is soon over. But I just feel that the story needed to be adressed properly and put to a close :/ Those not good with the subject-matter: skip this, if it is better for your health!
> 
> Cursive is Miles interjecting what he's doing, while she's telling her story (I hope that hasnt gotten too confusing :/)

They’d stuffed her in a sorry excuse for a wedding-dress.

Had abducted her from the edge of her families’ property, where she’d checked torn-down fences with a few of her father’s workers. Had been happy that she’d been allowed to go with them, dressed in practical clothes, rifle slung over her shoulder and the sabre her grandfather had gifted her with at her hip. She’d turned sixteen a week ago and finally her father had allowed for her to roam further, protection at her side or not.

_“I’m sure none of my siblings were ever awarded such freedom.”_

_Sounded solemn in her observation, his arms tightening around her._

Shoots had been fired in their direction, to of the workers felled immediately. The third one was injured, had pulled her to the floor with him, was bleeding out on top of her. Hindered her movements, unknowingly keeping her from pulling her rifle, her sabre. Not even the knife in her boot she could reach. Was bound at hand and feet, thrown over a mans shoulder, carried away. Their words still ringing in her ears.

“Raven’s a lucky fucker, ‘cause the rumours are true! She really is a pretty lad!”

The dress she’d been stuffed in, the empty-eyed woman who’d washed her down and did her hair, the man who’d led the “ceremony”. She despised them all, had struggled and bitten and screamed and kicked to no avail. Hoped for her father’s men to storm the building, to just get her hand on a weapon, any weapon, so she could at least die with some dignity left. Had understood during her journey to this out of the way village, what was about to happen.

Nothing could’ve prepared her for the real thing.

_She paused for a while after telling him what happened, he only feeling her tears in the darkness. Held her impossibly tighter._

Hours after she was forcibly married, forced to consume said marriage, she lay on the floor of the suite, shivering and quiet.

Her dress was little more than tattered remains, feeling only slowly returning to her body. Had drawn into herself when her fighting had achieved nothing, not caring when she was on the floor, not bothering to get up. Heard him snore from above her, General Raven of the New Californian Republic, a man who’d just broken the laws of his own military. Shook with the realisation that he was too powerful, that nobody would care.

And in her silent desperation she saw her sabre.

They’d mocked her with it, always keeping it just out of reach. Many knew this weapon, knew to which family it belonged and if Raven would go around telling people of his knew wife, sabre at his hip, so they’d believe him. He’d be part of the Armstrong-Clan, eligible for inheritance. He’d gain power and standing. And he’d never let her talk to another soul again. They’d told her that, of the little tale they’d spun, that she’d ran from home to be with him.

Bile rose in her throat.

She pulled herself up, not feeling the cold of the room anymore, watching the disgusting shape under the covers, sleeping and snoring and seemingly sure that she’d not resist. That she was too weak, too scared, too timid. That she’d do as he said, stay where he told her to. Walked over to where her weapon lay on a mantlepiece, picking it up, feeling the familiar weight in her hand.

Deciding to show him what she thought of him.

_Miles heart was thumping rapidly when she described the strikes, the carnage, her rage. Felt with her, held her, whispering whenever she paused in her tale to draw breath._

_“How strong you are my love!”_

The feeling of content wasn’t coming when Raven lay on the bed, dead.

Instead realization hit her, the grim kind that alerted her to just having exchanged punishments with her deeds. Though she knew instantly, aches returning with every step she took, that she’d decided the right way. There was no way she could’ve lived as his plaything, his trophy. Her mother’s words ringing in her ears:

“Freedom is something bought with blood and tears!”

Fought back the unbidden tears that yet again threatened to fall when thinking about her family, instead focusing on making a get-away. Looked out of the window, the sun not close to dawning yet, knowing that she had to be fast if she wanted to get ahead of the people below. They’d want her blood when they discovered what she’d done, that she’d taken revenge.

Quietly rummaged through drawers, found clothes haphazardly fitting her and threw them on. Bound her hair on top of her head, stuffed it under a helmet and searched for weapons and ammunition. Found plenty, alongside a backpack and a few stimpaks, even got her hands on a few caps and a bit of water. Threw it all in the bag, even her sabre, wrapping it in cloth beforehand.

Climbed out through the window, knotting clothes together, though not before spitting into the remains of Ravens face for a last time.

_Felt exhaustion take over her, tale close to an end. Admired her for her strength, her will, the sheer force of nature she was. And told her as much._

Was out and about hours before Ravens goons noticed anything, got through the first few days of her journey without incident. And sitting outside of a bar, features hidden with a new layer of dirt and blood, this time added by herself after scrubbing herself clean furiously, she heard the tale of her own escape told with something akin to awe in people’s voices. And learned that the NCR wanted her head.

Debated for a long while what to do, if she should go back to her family, deciding against it. She loved them too much, could never force upon them the danger she now was. The shame. Instead turning east, towards the rising sun, walking into it.

When her monthly blood came after passing Hoover Dam, she cried in relief.

* * *

 

Olivier’s tale had taken a long while, had exhausted the both of them. They’d only found sleep in the others arms when the sun was already rising again, yet no one had disturbed their slumber.

And stepping out of their door when the sun was at its highest point, seeing the form of Buccaneer leaning on the wall besides their door, Nuka on his chest, Miles understood why.

And felt thankful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing is hard at the moment, I'm sorry :/


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU *sings*

"What the hell is this?!"

She was used to her men being weird, taking a liking to things others would regard as trash. Were even a bit similar in that regard, though she’d never say it out loud. They had their own rooms, could clutter them all they wanted, at least if they were ready to follow her emergency-evacuation rules and either be able to pack it up quickly, or to leave their stuff behind if need be. But this, well, _thing_ was too big for any of their rooms and that they were headed to base-level meant that it wasn’t for scrapping anyways.

Not that Karley calling out over his shoulder that she’d just have to wait and see helped.

Understanding that this wasn’t disrespect, but rather something else, almost like a surprise waiting for her, piqued her interest. The past few weeks since Miles and Buccaneers return had been hectic, the number of jobs they got offered high, as well as the number of jobs completed. They were on the constant lookout for Khans, not having alerted the railroad to the situation, but Miles having been able to talk Mustang into having Hawkeye keep an eye on the streets for them. She’d gotten her hands on a new set of power-armour, almost untouched by the time gone by and had brought it to the wall. Was in the process of tweaking it, to make Buccaneer into an even more dangerous asset in battle.

The man had been huge and burly before, but now, after several months in their team, with proper food, water and training, he’d shown his true colours. In battle he was an absolute beast, whether their foe was human or animal or synth. Henschel had wanted to give him a big calibre weapon, but had instead opted on a small hand gun and a power fist. Not that he needed any help pummelling people.

But he was kind too, almost doted on his comrades, revelled in the comradery. She fought against the notion of the Wall being one big family, but everybody new without a doubt that she just tried to keep up appearances in the public eye. And he was understanding. Miles had told her that he’d slept in front of their room, had made sure that they were undisturbed during what had to be the most awful and at the same time most freeing talk of her live. And when Buccaneer and she had gone on a mission together, retrieval of a storage unit only a few blocks away from the city-limits, they’d briefly talked about the matter.

"Im sorry that I told Miles what he apparently didn’t knew."

She’d shrugged, not fazed too much by it because of rather obvious reasons.

"I kept it a secret from him, now I don’t have to anymore. You helped us in a way, really."

Had smiled, something that came surprisingly easy around Buccaneer too, usually a thing reserved for Miles and her dogs.

"Yeah, but it’s not an easy experience either, isn’t it? Though honestly, those hating the NCR for abusing their power love you in the east."

Shed remembered at this moment that abuse amongst the Khans took many forms, that maybe he’d experienced things not too unlike her own. Had felt a pang, kicking a stone out of the way, breathing hard under the weight on her back. And jumped her shadow still, saying what her heart had told her too.

"If you ever need to talk big guy, our door is always open."

Walking up the narrow stairs, thinking about this incident, by now a month old, she found that she meant these words still. Buccaneer had grown on her, grown on Miles too and she felt that they'd grown on him too. He’d confined not in her, but in Miles, the ordeal maybe easier to talk about with another man. Was almost drawn to the ease their interactions held, Miles and Buccaneer friends by now, the animosity between them gone completely. Stepped out of the wall, into their small yard, where the by now almost ready to be given away puppies had their home.

Both main protagonists of her thoughts were there already, playing and training the puppies, overseen by Slocum. The older dog went over to her quickly, greeted her with a lick of her wrist. He was finally free of the bandages sustained after the fight with the deathclaw, but the shaved off fur was only growing back patchy. Slocum was old, even by pre-war standards, about fourteen she thought. Age and constant radiation put a lot of strain on him and the younger dogs took over more and more of the duties he’d usually fulfilled. She did not take him out of the city anymore and let him sleep in their bed as often as he wanted, yet the pang she felt wasn’t without reason. He'd been the first truly friendly being she’d encountered after fleeing east, met the dog in what had been Texas once, still a puppy, small and yappy.

She did not want to let go, yet knew she’d have to soon.

Knelt in the dirt, cuddling her longest partner in crime, feeling a different hand on each of her shoulders. Heard their words, their laughter around her and decided not to wallow in pity, but cherish the time they got. And playing with all the dogs in the yard, Buccaneer and Miles not far, smiles and laughter coming easily, she wondered if the pre-war people had a word for this too. They'd used many terms for love the older ghouls had told her, straight and gay, and bi and pan. Many more, too.

With a little throb of her heart she thought that love should be enough.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR wonderfulpersonwhosficsareabsolutelyamazingandyoushouldcheckthemout!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU ;D;D;D

Their voices were warped through the communications system of the power-armour.

Sounding almost hollow, further away than they were, metallic. But the huge metal suits provided protection and strength, especially considering the haul of loot they were currently getting back to the Wall.

"Karley said that everybody should be at base-level when night falls."

They'd ridded a neighbourhood east of diamond city of gunners that had been about to move in. The green-clad, paramilitary group had apparently gotten the job from someone, to pressure the city into heightening their defences in the hopes that they'd not scatter their protectors so far around the confines of the wall then and could get a foothold, at least according to a note they’d found. It was really rather fishy, but they had been able to oversee the terrain and to surprise-attack their foe, thusly Miles cared only partly who exactly had tried to destabilise the streets around diamond city. There were too many to count anyways.

The Mayor had contracted them for that job, had sent Mustang over, the pay generous and the loot they found theirs too. Not to mention the synth they’d freed from the gunners confines and handed over to the railroad, the enemies guards on several small roofs, felled by bullets fired from a great distance. Miles thought that Black Hayate was a weird name for a puppy, but at the same time would have accepted any name, as long as Liv was save. Counted each bullet from the sniper as a little thank you.

"And do you two by chance know what’s going on down there?"

Miles knew of course, had helped hatch the plan alongside Buccaneer, but was good at acting none the wiser.

"No idea, really. But couldn’t you just shoulder your way in? I mean, you're the boss!"

Laughter and humour mostly lost through the com, but knowing that the blonde, confined to her lead-covered armour, still got it anyways. Buccaneer butting in, before her com could so much as croak.

"She's intrigued Miles, that’s why she lets them fumble around for three weeks by now."

His laughter still clear, though Miles was sure that you could hear Buccaneer through the armour without it too.

"Yes, you two just team up on me! See who saves your ass from the next deathclaw or yao guai!"

Laughter over com being just a number of cracking noises, loud in the street around them. They carried the last of the jobs big haul, guns and ammunition, armour and rations. Miles even wore one of their spoils, the green-tinted power-armour ugly, but useful. He wouldn’t normally wear one, felling less agile with it, his hybrid-synth-strengths nullified too, but to get it to the wall was worth it. And he could tell too, that she was indeed as intrigued as the big guy said.

But so much had changed and shifted anyway those past few months, gradually, yet decidedly noticeable. He often felt his heart throb around Buccaneer, not unlike how it felt when being around Liv, but also entirely different at the same time. And he’d told her one night, when shed softly brushed out Slocum’s fur, feeling nervous and nauseous about it. Soothed by her smile, her encouragement. Her confession that the same happened to her at times. Both being troubled a bit by it, not sure if to feel jealousy, or resentment, or maybe even shame? Instead deciding after many more discussions, to just be done with feeling love.

Both promising to be on the lookout if it was maybe the same for him, at the same time confirming that they were a double-deal: both or none. His heart had beat faster when she’d said those words, continued to if he just thought about them.

Miles was pretty sure that Buccaneer had caught on, but the man seemed to feel too much like an intruder to do something about it. And thusly he’d started to plan, wanted not only to give Liv a break, but also to give the big guy a chance to grow into it all, to understand that they wanted him and _how_ they wanted him.

Was glad for the helmet hiding his flushed face from the other two at the thought.

He’d felt a bout of jealousy at first, when he noticed that the big guy liked her. And something entirely weird when he noticed that the big guy seemed to like him too. He'd never entertained such thoughts, all of his memories Livs too after all, but guessed that it wasn’t too out of this world for Buccaneer. They’d talked a lot about his past by now, their relationship turning from pure hatred and mistrust to trust, forming a friendship from there. The former Khan had never known something as much of a family as the Wall, revelled in it all. With every day he spent as part of their team, he bloomed.

Miles had every right to feel weird about all of this, he knew as much, but found he couldn’t. Their love seemed to him just like the next logical step.

The little thing the men were building up at base-level had been his idea, one he’d drawn Buccaneer into. They’d salvaged an old projector from a cinema, huge and cumbersome, but working still. Searched for old movies, books on them and much more, one of their storage rooms now full of stuff that had already been a hundred years old when the bombs fell. They'd barred the boss from going down there, wanted her to watch and relax, eat a bit of fancy lady’s cake and cuddle with her dogs, with them too if they could get it done. It was little more than an ambitious plan to get some ease back into everyone’s minds

And miraculously, it worked.

They'd put away their loot, stored the armour and washed up and changed. Liv had gone and brought Mustang some intel, Slocum trotting beside her, while he and Buccaneer had trained with the puppies. They were at least four months old now, able to stomach a few easy lessons on behaviour. Nuka, following Buccaneer everywhere since their travels to Miss Rockbell if she could, hot on the big man’s heels, helping them.

And when they finally snatched Liv, well after nightfall, sat her down on some cushions, almost the whole manning of the wall in front of her, they started a movie. Had decided on something rather old, but seemingly extremely popular before the war, watching text roll over the screen.

And it worked, to his joy, Liv leaning back, Slocum crawling onto her lap, him on her left, Buccaneer on her right. A bit of space between them at the start of the movie, but forgotten and forgone half an hour later. Were a huddle when the so-called credits rolled, all leaning on the other, pulled out of their drowsiness only when their men in front of them cheered, asked if there was more. If they were allowed to try and build a lightsabre. Liv waived them yes, impressed with the weapon anyways and then went in the direction of the bedroom, beckoning them to follow.

Miles trying to fight the awkwardness down when he lay next to Buccaneer in the bed only Liv and he had shared for so long. Exchanged a look with the other man, Liv still taking her time with getting ready to sleep, while he and Buccaneer found that the thought of touching now felt weird somehow, even though they’d done this not even half an hour ago at base level.

Wanted to ponder a bit more on the awkwardness of sleeping in the same bed together for the first time, when Liv barged into his thoughts with throwing herself between them, wiggling to get some room, overloading them almost with how physical she was. Was soon asleep, ease creeping into all of them, muscles relaxing, tension leaving them. When Slocum climbed up on top, getting comfy too, the awkwardness had made way for peace already.

And when the morning dawned, they were one big huddle of limbs, not caring who touched whom.

And pretty happy with that, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a more serious note though, OT3 are really a beautiful thing, though somehow very hard to write!


	19. Chapter 19

The men got used to it quickly.

Of course, it was the thing everybody talked about for the first few days after someone noticed, easy to spot by the sudden silence that stretched through every room as soon as one of them entered. But when it became clear that decisions were not made differently, their internal hierarchy not undermined, everybody took it in stride. Not to mention that most of the men had made bets before either Miles, the Sir, or Buccaneer had caught on.

And so, after a few days, everything was business as usual.

Olivier was busy with planning the operations for the next few weeks, talking with Mustang lengthily too, under the disguise of visiting Riza and her new puppy. They’d gone over plans to move a few Synths around, exchanged information gathered by surveillance and she’d been offered some troubling news:

Apparently, there was someone wandering the wastes, not looking unlike Miles.

“Okay, dark skin is not hard to come by and neither is white hair. Half of the Raiders I’ve seen dyed theirs white after all!”

Sat on the floor in his and Riza’s little house, playing with Hayate. His siblings had mostly stayed at the wall, though she’d gifted one to Doc Sun and another was brought to Quincy by a caravan. Two of her crew lived there now, had families and she’d been glad to send the little guy to them. He’d have a good live there, plenty of kids to play with.

Yet for all her ease, Mustang remained rigid.

“Olivier, there are reports of red eyes, that’s not something I’ve ever heard of before!”

Sighed, the feeling in her gut bad, though her will to face this new problem barely existing. The last few weeks and months had been too draining, too emotional. Was it too much to ask for some peace and quiet?

“The source is reliable?”

Had plenty of experience with the Railroads “Tourists” by now, their informants not always as trustworthy as they liked to believe.

“Very much so, we usually don’t disclose such information, but it was Hughes that spotted him. And I tend to believe that guy.”

Harrumphed at that, not happy it that at all. Maes Hughes lived in one of the smaller settlements, was trustworthy and skilled. If the information came from him, it was true.

“Then we’ll stay on the lookout. Though I have to admit, I hope it’s a coincidence.”

Mustang still tense, serious in a way she’d rarely seen.

“I hope so too, honestly. And up until now nothing happened, though we should try to stay positive. Maybe he’s another hybrid, who escaped from the Institute?”

Hayate licking at her hand, running back and forth between her and Hawkeye. The other woman silent, looking like she was mulling over something in her head. Her eyes drawn to Mustang again.

“Possible. Is Desdemona readying the Railroad to hit him up?”

Now Roy-Boy the one scoffing.

“She wants to send a team and approach him, is already talking about overwriting his memories. You see that she’s learned nothing from Miles!”

Which was an uncharacteristically harsh judgement from him.

“Unrest in paradise?”

And now Hawkeye started to join their conversation.

“Desdemona is acting tough at the moment, tries to be strict and severe. But you can see that she fears this man, is unsure of what will happen when they approach him. And she’s afraid that you’ll get to the man first, or Miles.”

Cocked her head to the side, having felt that this was the snag.

“Let me guess, she still thinks that I’m trying to amass an army of Synths to fight her and the Railroad?”

Their combined sighs confirming her suspicions.

“This woman will never learn. But thanks for the info, I’ll ask Miles about it and we’ll be careful should we meet the guy. Anything else?”

Ruffled Hayate’s fur once more before getting up and stretching a little. It was Hawkeye again, having gotten up too.

“A group of men is nearing the city from the west, four at least. Saw them through the scope shortly before my shift ended. I did not recognise the armour, but they had big weaponry with them. You have caravans going out tomorrow, don’t you?”

Nodded her thanks, hand on the handle of the door.

“Thanks for the warning, I’ll tell them to be careful and maybe reroute them. If we get any news about the other matter, I’ll send a messenger?”

Mustang getting up now too, grabbing his helm and weapon, his shift starting in a few minutes.

“Yep, though I’d not send anything to the railroad directly. Not with how Des is at the moment.”

Nodded, waved her goodbye and stepped outside with Mustang, both parting ways at the market, him walking towards the mayor’s office, her in the direction of the wall. Checked the Brahmin-pen while walking past it, counted the harnesses her men had readied and stepped inside after a few minutes, greeted by some of her dogs. Talked the caravan’s routes over with some of her men, not ready to take chances with the seemingly heavily-armed strangers.

And then she went upstairs after, grabbed her rifle and helmet too, ready to start her shift on top of the wall. The approaching twilight making the city look almost peaceful, bathing it in a reddish light.

It was beautiful enough to almost make her forget that nothing was as peaceful as it looked.


	20. Chapter 20

“I’m impressed that you talked her into taking the shorter of the two trips with such ease!”

Buccaneer laughing at these words, feeling proud.

There’d been a run-in on one of the Wall’s narrower staircases this morning, leaving a few with broken ribs and one with a broken foot. And of course, it had only struck those that had been set to lead todays caravans, prompting Miles and Liv to fill in.

“She was tired from the all-night-patrol on the wall, I think that’s why she put up so little fight. And it’ll be good that she’ll be back at the Wall in a few days.”

Miles had plenty of experience with Brahmins and would lead them on their week-long trip south-west, while Liv had taken on the second and smaller caravan, more Brahmin than people. She was great with these animals, upon inquiry telling him stories about her childhood on the biggest farm in the New Californian Republic.

“Still, impressive!”

The man bumping him in the side, prompting him to laugh again.

Was still taken with how different live was since joining the Wall. He had friends, steady meals, armour and weaponry, medical aid. Not to mention that he’d found something that had been an elusive thing for all his live, more than just happy with how things have turned out between Liv, Miles and him. Longed already for the time when they were all together again, though always cherishing any time he got at all with one or even both.

They’d travel for three days, bring the supplies to what Liv called “The Safety-Net”, would stay there for a day and then travel back. He’d not seen the place yet, though Miles had already told him that it was a sight to see. A cave, or rather building site, meant to house a Vault. They’d found it after cleaning a bunch of Raiders from a quarry, finding the tunnel and unmistakable door when searching for loot. Had dug further, finding a bunch of supplies and an otherwise empty cave.

And a female ghoul, according to Miles, immediately trying to coerce Liv into bringing her “test-subjects”. They’d sent her running quickly, nobody impressed, but nonetheless they’d secured the cave. Having started to move supplies there, when the Ghouls were thrown out of Diamond City, everybody at the Wall feeling uneasy at that. Buccaneer knowing that Liv always feared people finding out just how many Synths were amongst her ranks.

“And what do you think about the news she brought home yesterday evening?”

Miles eyebrows shooting up, red eyes hidden behind a big pair of sunglasses.

“About this other possible Synth? I’m sceptical, to be honest. I think the Sir is right, dark skin and white hair is not _that_ uncommon.”

They were far enough from the city, the men accompanying them trustworthy, the Brahmins not known for tittle-tattling either.

“So not one memory turned up?”

Liv had told them about the news on top of the Wall, when they’d visited her during her shift, bringing her food. But Miles hadn’t been struck by an epiphany, though both Liv and he had been ready for one. And as such, all but him were pretty sure that it was just another guy, simply looking a bit unusual.

“No. What troubles me more are these guys she mentioned. I mean, people with big guns walking towards Diamond City are not a rare thing, but that they couldn’t be identified…”

Something that in turn troubled him less, than it did Miles.

“Maybe some guys that dyed their armour differently? Wouldn’t be the first time.”

His companion looking uneasy still, though they continued their travel. Had a run-in with a Yao Guai, quickly dispatched by his artificial arm. Met a few Raiders, making sure to drive them all away and stay on the lookout afterwards. Reached the quarry, edgy and white, just when the sun went down on the third day of their travel.

It was incredible.

Vault Doors were something he’d only heard tales of, so seeing one in motion was an experience in and on its own. The screeching exiting him somehow, making him feel like a giddy little kid. The ceiling was so high that he could barely see it, the space huge and not as empty as he would’ve thought.

There was building going on, the space in part being filled with Vault-like structures, possibly build with the supplies left from before the great war, two-hundred years ago. The rest was in parts filled with the structures you saw all over the wasteland, wooden and practical. He saw Karley, had already wondered how long the mans mission had to be, working on a pre-war reactor.

Miles followed behind him, showed him around, the space seeming endless, something new and exciting around every corner.

The “Safety-Net” the only thing he was talking about for their whole travel back, much to Miles amusement.

“And what’s the Sir planning there?”

The outskirts of Boston were coming into view, buildings gradually getting taller. He hoped that her caravan had went calmly, that she’d gotten rest the past few days, maybe tinkered with her power-armour a bit.

Miles snorted, the sound a mix of amusement and disbelieve.

“It was a back-up-plan at first, you know, just in case McDonough would evict us from the city. But now… well, we’re getting too many for the Wall.”

“So, you think that she wants to use it as a base?”

The other shrugged.

“I guess so. Though I don’t think that she’d leave Diamond City that easily, she’s grown fond of…”

Miles stopped mid-sentence, eyes trained on the crossroads before them. Around the corner ran a man, baseball cap lopsidedly on his head, barrelling towards them. Nobody trained their weapons on him, so Buccaneer was sure that they knew him.

And true to that, Miles stepped forward.

“Jean, what’s the matter?”

Sounding as alarmed as the blond man looked, trying his hardest to catch his breath. Carried a heavy rifle, wore combat armour over an old military uniform. Took a big swig from his canteen, before he was able to speak.

Buccaneer felt his stomach turn, knew that nothing good would come out of the man’s mouth.

“Heaven’s am I glad that you’re here! The bird of prey saw you and send me here, the Sir did not return from her mission, she…”

Not only Miles and he, but the other men with them thoroughly alarmed. It was him that spoke first.

“Everything you know, quick!”

Nobody sat down while the man talked, standing before them with a strong voice and trembling legs.

“When she and her caravan were a day later than expected, the guys at the Wall alerted the guards. Asked them to stay on the lookout. And a day later the Brahmins returned, alone, wandering through the streets near the City, without wares or their harnesses. Could only identify them because of their brandings. We found the men that went with her, they’re all…”

The silence heavy for a moment, though the phrasing had all of them perk up.

“So, she’s been…?”

“Abducted, most likely. The Firestarter gathered as much information as he could, the bird of prey too. The guys at the Wall are already readying weapons and armour for you, want to make a plan and then heed out!”

He found his voice, heard the anger in it, though only felt numb.

“Then what are we waiting for?!”

Nudged the Brahmins forward, the hour it took to reach the city feeling like an eternity.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, not too happy with that one...  
> It's the kind of chapter that needs to be written, before you get to the reaaaaly good parts and I think it shows :/

The slave-collar itched.

Sat against the concrete-wall immobilised anyways, bound at hands and feet. Was not too keen on moving either, the bullet right above her left breast smarting like hell, burning against her flesh. Her leg in a makeshift-cast, broken after one of the Brahmin had kicked against it in its panic. Black and blue with bruises, the fight she'd put up good, at least she told herself that, though the laceration on her head from where one of her abductors had seemingly had enough gave her a headache.

Tried not to think about her men now, one after another and in quick succession felled by a muffled gun.

“You know, we’d ought to thank you. In our books anybody killing NCR-scum is one of the good guys!”

Their leader, the man looking so very much like Buccaneer, not managing to pull her away from her memories with his words.

The sound had pulled her out of her thoughts when they'd reached the outskirts of Boston, had been thinking about her bed and a warm meal already. Thought that one of the Brahmins had maybe picked up something from the streets, the sound one like an overripe tato made when bit into, turned around to look. Had instead seen one of her men fall, Heathcliff, hitting the street below and not moving to get up again.

What ensued had been a small firefight, not going in their favour.

It was always troublesome to find out where an enemy using a muffler was shooting from, not to mention that they were in the unlucky position to have no cover on either side. Had to watch her men fall like flies, some groaning in pain, some still. Finally catching a glimpse of their foe, the first true bang reaching her ears.

Felt the bullet embed itself into her flesh, the sound startling the Brahmin, leading one to kick.

She liked to think that she’d felt her bone brake, though she’d been busy with falling to the ground, howling in pain. The combined burning of the bullet and her leg making it hard for her to concentrate, her head swimming from how hard her head had connected to the street beneath her.

And then people had walked amongst her and her fallen men, stepping from one to the other, unveiling the faces of those wearing masks. She could not look away when weapons were trained on their faces, shot at point-black range, her heart bleeding at that. Still bleeding when she thought about it.

A face had been in her vision then, having her get ready for her inevitable death.

Fight rearing up at that, something that Miles called the fierceness of a Yao Guai. Had forced one of her hands to her sabre, pulling it up with a bout of strength, against the burning in her chest. Blood falling onto her, not her own, the man that had looked at her not two seconds ago crumpling, still.

Not much later something had connected with her head and the world had went black.

“I mean, you killed Pinky, so, not good. But hell, we heard you were dangerous, but that idiot had to get close anyways. Idiots have no place within the Khans.”

Had a retort on the tip of her tongue at that, though every aching bruise had kept her from throwing it at him. Instead thought about how she’d woken up after the fight for the first time, in something that had to be nothing more than a shack.

How she’d been confronted with a face that seemed strikingly familiar. Chin and mouth were well-known to her, build and height too. The nose reminded her of _his_ , though the voice had been entirely different.

“That’s gotta be her alright.”

A fist connecting with her face not a second later, her defiance keeping her mouth from screaming.

“That was for Pinky! You fucking whore have his blood on your hands now, too!”

Had watched the three men, their discussion quick and heated.

“The hell we are to get her around with a broken leg?!”

“I say make her walk on it!”

The one seeming familiar hitting the smaller and clearly more stupid one over the head, answering angrily.

“Idiot, we’re supposed to get her back to Vegas alive! You know what happens when wounds get infected? People _die_!”

The idiot apparently not having had enough yet.

“And the collar around her head is not as dangerous? Pinky may have said that he’d rewired it to not explode, but…”

The small one hit over the head again.

“Think she can run away with that leg? We’ll shock her with the collar if it can’t be helped, but we’ll just carry her to the next hideout after nightfall. And now go and be on the lookout! The mess we left behind will not go unnoticed for long!”

The other two had left the shack at that, their leader had tried to ask her questions, but her mind had been too muddled to think of a witty reply. Had kept silent instead, the ache of her head overruling any coherent thought. This pain added to that of her chest and leg leaving her dizzy.

She must’ve slipped into unconsciousness not long after, because the change in location had been notable.

“Okay Missy, come on, talk to us! Yeah, you’re mad, but your father didn’t offer us as much as the scumbags, so…”

Again, not offering anything in return, had made the mistake of answering more than once, their fists hard and their violence without inhibition.

Had woken up again in this building, an old factory of sorts. No signs of Raiders or Gunners on the walls, though that did not have to mean much. Was not sure how long she’d been out before arriving here, only knew that for all the pain she still felt, that they must’ve treated her with stimpaks or med-x.

And was now chatted up often by the trio’s leader, the man looking so much like Buccaneer.

“Wants to know that you’re safe by the way, like you’re some kind of small child. A Khan is treated as a grown up as soon as he can walk!”

Laughed, though she felt no mirth herself.

These assholes had killed her men, in a ruthless and brutal fashion. And she remembered the things Buccaneer had told Miles and her, the mannerisms she’d seen. How he’d led a life full of violence and torture and degradation. That this man in front of her was probably a sibling of his, too young to be his father, and as such part of his torturous past.

Stood up now, after one of the others gesticulated wildly, walking over to them.

And Olivier witnessed the men whisper amongst each other, saw them get ready near the double-doors of the hall, pushing them open to be slightly ajar. Saw them take out weapons, get ready, was sure to see shivers of fear run down several spines.

Could not see who was standing there, or what was nearing them, but hoped that it was the Wall, ready to bust her out. Listened to heavy steps and weapons being cocked. Heard someone clear their throat.

It was their leader, the familiar one, that spoke.

“Brother!? We thought you were dead!”

And her heart had sung when she’d recognised Buccaneers voice, roaring and angry, though it sank quickly when his words were finally understood by her brain.

“And I thought you were smart enough to observe your target first, you stupid fucks! I did not woe that whore for months, just to have you ruin my plans!”

Silence stretching on for a few moments, before she heard four men erupt into raunchy laughter. Heard the door squeak when Buccaneer’s so familiar bulk stepped through, saw him shake hands with the man that she now knew to be his brother.

Inwardly screaming when his eyes fell onto her, guarded and full of hate, just like on the day she’d met him.


	22. Chapter 22

"Was there shooting?!"

Miles was close to losing it, there was no way around it.

"No, they did not seem like they were expecting him, but they let him in without..."

The expletive rolling from his tongue with rage.

"Fuck!"

Like it hadn't been bad enough that she'd been abducted, five of their men shot at point-blank range. That they'd followed barely existing tracks for four days now, barely sleeping, Henschel having gotten a glimpse of her once or twice. Had recounted visible injuries, unconsciousness and, worst of all, a slave collar. Miles had not needed the fear that came with her being under the constant threat of being killed by one wrong button press, amplified by how ruthless her abductors seemed to be.

And now, of all things possible, Buccaneer had left camp.

"Maybe he's in there to get her out? Knows those guys from his days as a Raider?"

Wanted to curse at how clueless they all were, though for good reason of course.

He'd gotten more than one good glimpse at the men that had taken Liv, had seen the similarity between one of them and Buccaneer, had understood immediately whom they were up against. The Khans had come, his suspicions of the men the Hawks Eye of all people could not identify justified. Had asked Buccaneer about it of course, when the others were out of earshot. No one besides the three of them knew about Buccaneers past, Livs past and they all had agreed on keeping it that way.

And now, with Buccaneer having gone down to these men, one of them his brother, Miles did not know what to think anymore.

Had thought, when Henschel nudged him awake from a fitful sleep, that Buccaneer had simply gone mad with rage and worry, barely able to think straight while they were dogging the men, waiting for a good opportunity to strike. Then he'd thought that the man maybe tried to go in silently, sneaking not his forte, though the tenseness of the situation forcing him into action. The past few days had been long and tedious after all, leading them west first, before going north-east. Had not expected for Buccaneer, a man whom he and Olivier had shared their heart with, to just waltz into the midst of their enemies, now seeming like a part of them.

Did not know how to tell wrong from right and truth from lies anymore, but kept things a secret, when answering Henschel.

"Let's hope so, though I'd say the silence is suspicious."

It was not pity in the blonde man's gaze, but something akin to sadness, understanding. Their relation was well-known at the Wall, no secret to anybody in Diamond City either. And Miles knew that he wasn't the only one with a brain, that not only him understood what Buccaneer going down there probably meant, the lack of gunfire and shouting. Closed of his mind, his heart, focusing instead.

"We spread around the factory, let’s keep it under watch from all angles. Worst case is them being four against fifteen!"

The man sneaking and rounding the old building at that, the Saugus Ironworks a target only people would choose that were badly informed about the Commonwealth's wastes.

It was well-fortified, but constantly wanted by all kinds of forces, good or bad. Its walls were thick, there was still some loot hidden away inside of it, not to mention how much money it could make someone, if he or she got it to work again. As such, it was under constant threat, those setting up camp there changing in a rhythm that was something between weekly and daily.

Settled into a stringy patch of grass, flat on his stomach, his eyes on the factory, waiting.

When they'd arrived in Diamond City, at the Wall, the anxiety had spread to everybody there. People knew, though not all the details, as a normal guard had found the deceased of Olivier's caravan, after tracing back the tracks of the Brahmin. And Mustang had thankfully understood and acted quickly, had gathered as much information as he could, had readied the people at the Wall. Buccaneer and he were decked out in weapons and good armour, though they'd opted out of power armour, not knowing in which confines they'd maybe have to fight in. Had handpicked whom they wanted to take with them, made sure that things at the Wall were running smoothly at the same time and had made their way out of town again.

The Hawks Eye, mummed and in a formless garb, had met up with them, giving them intel and directions, setting them on track. Promised them to keep the way back home clear, so they'd have a smooth journey back.

That if worst came to worst, Doc Sun would be waiting and ready.

And so, they'd followed their foes tracks, three men, Liv always slung over ones’ shoulder.

Henschel had told him that she looked bad, one leg in a makeshift cast, blood plenty on the overall she'd chosen that morning they'd all set out with their respective caravans. That there was blood in her hair, that he even once spotted something that looked like a rather big laceration, looking like it was tinted yellow. Most troubling of all though, that she seemed fully unconscious and out of it.

Olivier did not let herself be carried, only a very few exceptions to this rule. She put up a fight, was strong and wilful and with quite a temper. For her to be quiet, silent, was...

The near-silence of the dawning morning cut through by the sound of a weapon being fired. One shot, probably from a pistol judging by the sound, though nothing followed after it. All his men alerted now, upright, waiting. On instinct turned to his left, were Buccaneer had been the last few days, his heart sinking instead when he was confronted with the man not there.

Henschel nudging him.

"Miles, should we...?"

His mind reeling with what only one shot could mean, his body moving faster than his mind.

"Yes, we're going in! Slow and steady!"

His hand signs being seen, everybody moving into position, crouching down the slope to the double doors, others moving to a back-entrance or staying where they were, bringing up the rear. Hoped that they had enough supplies, a lot of luck and someone smart enough to disarm a slave-collar.

Slowly pried open the door, hoping that on the inside only three enemies three enemies were waiting, not four.


	23. Chapter 23

His brother had not changed over the past few years.

"So you want to get back into fathers good graces?"

"Well, if I wanna go back I gotta be, don't I? Our old man would've killed me if I've not fled as far as I did, and he'll do the same when I come back without a nice gift for him."

Both of them grunting in affirmation of that, their way of conversation sparse as it always had been. Asked a question, not willing to sit in silence for so long.

"How's things back there?"

His brother shrugging.

He's gotten more, not necessarily fatter, but not more pleasant either. He spotted a few new scars on his arms, saw black splotches on the other man’s skin. Noted that he was probably sick, maybe his substance abuse finally showing after so many years on more than the psychological plane. Not that this was his only brother who had such problems, the number of siblings he had not known to him. He just knew Robert the best, as he’d given him the most grieve for his mere existence.

"Not so great, that's why we're so glad that we got a hold of the little whore. Travelled through the whole damn country after all for her. We're losing land to some groups of Raiders; some punk has taken over Vegas to boot. It's always been a fucking hellhole, but now it's also on fire."

Nodded while his brother spoke, though nothing of that surprised him.

"So, the mood's bad?"

A piece of rubble was kicked, skidding noisily over the floor. The other two, he’d seen their faces before but had no idea what their names were, had scrammed when his brother had thrown around angry looks, one in the direction of the roof, the other to the buildings second wing.

Buccaneer knowing that one of them finding ghouls and giving him a good distraction was too much to hope for.

"Shitty even. Many are hungry, and we get no people who want to join us either. The NCR-scum isn't breathing down our neck as much as it used to, but those younger than fifteen tend to leave in the dead of night, if they make it that far. We have guards up at night now, to keep those pussies from running off. And it's been worse since some of the women staged an uprising! Father wanted to take what’s his from one of them, and she thought it right to stick a knife into him! Lived of course, but some of the women left together, even killing some of the men while doing so. Emboldened by this bitch over there I guess!"

Looked at Olivier too at that, watching him with slitted eyes. Tried to look through her, to not let anything show, feeling his brothers sly gaze on him.

"Since she's killed that scumbag, many of the whores are not as easy as they used to be. Remember Gonzo?"

He grunted, pulling his eyes back to those of his brother.

"They cut off his dick after he tried to get it on with some caravan-chick. Instead of feeling lucky that he let her survive with some use, she goes and waits 'till he's fallen asleep. And then..."

Made a scissoring-motion with his fingers, painting him a clear picture of what had happened.

"Well, you know my definition of getting into someone’s pants differs from yours, right?"

His brothers snort still the same, more condescending than humorous.

"Yeah, sure. You and your gentleness. That's why it was so easy for us to bend you over. Got into her pants too, is she the one on top?!"

Endured the others laughter, clenched and unclenched his fist, breathed in and out to calm himself.

In the past he'd have started a fight after such words, something he'd often lost, his brains of no use when faced with too many beating him up. But he'd known that he was different from many there, maybe having to do with his mother, a woman not born a Khan. She'd been gentler, handled him with something he'd understood a few months ago to be love. Had been his father’s favourite woman, which made him his favourite, if troublesome son. His smarts notable, though away from his father’s side hardly an asset.

The envy that had caused, made long faded bruises under his skin crawl again.

"Well, we've always been quite different, haven't we?"

Smiled, slyly, though he knew that she'd seen, that she'd understood. Heard her suck in a breath sharply, though she masked it with a cough quickly. His brother responding to that, standing up and moving over to her.

Leaned himself on the wall she leaned on, tried to trap her with his body, tried to intimidate. The man’s voice a sneer.

“Yeah, different we’ve always been. But you managed to woo this beauty, though she’s banged up pretty badly. Should’ve known better then to put up a fight like that. I imagine she looks even better without those overalls?”

Reined himself in, got up and closer, holding his tongue. Robert did not want his input, his opinion, talked on through his silence absolutely undeterred.

“You let my little brother have a go, then you won’t mind me, huh?”

Watched with pride, standing in his brother’s shadow, when she aimed and spit the man in the face. Caught Roberts fist in his hand, pressed tightly, heard bones crunch and cry out.

His brother had been the bane of his childhood and youth, had always been there. And now, after so many years of hardships not even understanding what kind of chances life offered you, he wanted to be the bane of his life again, to hurt her. Decided that he wouldn’t let him, his chosen family more loving than he’d ever known. His grip tightening, Liv’s eyes widening.

Leaned, the gun’s bang loud in his ears, leaving a ringing, that his brother at least had gotten a bit faster of the years.

Barely felt the pain, instead used his second hand, his rage now blind, bottomless.

His fists barrelling and pummelling, his eyes barely seeing the colour his hands spread all over the floor. The existence of guns forgotten, memories flashing through his mind. Of hands holding him down, sneers and laughter. Of words not directed against him, but against his mother. Her body, when she’d been found dead in her tent by him. The look on Olivier’s face when he’d entered this hall, the fear and hurt in her eyes.

Only stopped, when he felt a hand on his shoulder, breathing hard.

The same blues without malice now, only worry.

“I…I…”

His jumbled thoughts interrupted by the sound of gun-fire, of shouting and screaming. Heard someone thunder down the metal-stairs, threw himself in front of her. Grabbed for his brothers discarded pistol, though knew that he was in no position to shoot, not daring to leave even an inch of her uncovered.

Felt a sharp pain at his back, heard her scream and shout, the banging of doors.

And when Miles ran past him, his gaze was drawn like on a string, following the white-haired man, his determined expression. Watched, with horror and amazement alike, how quick the man was, upon their enemy in an instant, apparently not caring about the rifle slung over his shoulder. Used his fists too, practically pounced on his enemy, turning the man to an unrecognisable stain of blood in few short moments.

And with ease Miles stood up then, tall and powerful, his hair open, his glasses not in front of his eyes. Looking at him.

Something between worry and anger on his face.

“Fuck, we need a stim! Hurry you…”

Olivier’s voice having him turn again, fear surging through him at that. Had she gotten even more hurt, a bullet maybe having found her? Followed her hand then, resting against his chest, blood surging forward from between her fingers. Wondered for a moment when her hand had been injured, before realization hit him.

And while he fell forward, the world went black.


	24. Chapter 24

His rage, directed at the Khans, himself and Buccaneer alike, subsided quickly when he saw the latter’s crumpled form leaning on Olivier.

Saw the blood seeping from the man’s back at three points, heard her shouts for someone with medical supplies, her pleas to give the man a stimpak or a dozen. Saw that there was blood pooling underneath her, though she was too nimble for it to be her own. Put his fast movement finally to good use, be their side in an instant.

Heard the men fight what had to be the last remaining Khan outside, though the sounds quickly quietened down after an especially big bang. Reached into his pockets, found the stim, used his strength to lift Buccaneer off of her, to lay him down on his back. The blood there not just plenty, or a lot, but a scary amount.

Used the hole provided to set the needle.

Felt Henschel by his side, who, though not a doctor, knew how to handle injuries fairly well. His panic only making way for feelings when he felt Olivier's hand grab his, gazing at her. She was white as a sheet, her eyes shone with something so very close to tears and all in all, she was the most awful looking beauty he'd ever seen. Saw her shake with the effort of keeping it together, the wounds he could spot grisly, looking infected. Her leg in a makeshift cast, though he had a feeling that there were more bones broken.

Her voice steady though.

"This was the most horrible plan I've ever seen!"

Understood what she meant and could not keep himself from setting things straight, however torn he was between fear, Buccaneer still not responding to Henschel’s efforts, and anger at the man for just running off, for taking things into his own hands, for taking things out of _his_ hands.

"It wasn't a plan though, Liv."

Saw, when her eyes widened for a fraction, that she understood. That Buccaneer had gone solo for this one, had deceived them all, her, him, his own brother.

"Fuck!"

Which put his thoughts into words very well.

Henschel interrupting them.

"Sir, Miles, we'll need a real Doctor for those wounds!"

Marvelled at how calm the blonde was, his hands now also stained with Buccaneers blood, the number of empty stims and med-x forming a small pile. Sheer bandages being slowly seeped through with blood again.

He turned to Olivier, his tone severe.

"Your decision: Save him, or leave him?"

Her anger quick, though mellowed by sheer exhaustion. Eyes full of confusion.

"We save him of course! He protected me with his life, he killed his..."

Saw her catch herself before spilling secrets, apparently the one thinking the most clearly, serious head injury or not.

"...these old comrades of his. Think this was his plan all along Miles!"

Her gaze not pleading, she never would, but fixing him to the place where he sat next to her, her hand squeezing his tightly.

He felt himself nod.

"There's a settlement close, Rodriguez said the last time he'd been there they had a real Doc. Henschel?"

The man perking up upon hearing his name, having busied himself with tightening Buccaneers bandages.

"Pull the men together, have them clean up and make it look like we've never been here. Take everything, burn the bodies, you know the drill. And get me Herman, we'll carry Buccaneer. You take the Sir when you're done here?"

The other nodding.

"Will do Sir!"

It still took a few minutes before Herman arrived, until they'd set up their folded stretcher and moved Buccaneer onto it. The big guy breathing shallowly, looking worse for wear.

Miles feeling his adrenaline subside during these long minutes, fear taking over, a feeling of urgency coming to the forefront. He could not talk much now with Olivier, not without exposing things to the men that were secrets only shared between them. But the possibility of Buccaneer really only having tried to save her stuck to his mind, though he desperately wanted to just talk with the man.

Felt Olivier’s hand, her wounds bandaged by Henschel, taking a few moments before he lifted the stretcher together with Herman. Looked into her eyes, clear and honest and telling him to stay calm, to believe her judgement, feeling hopeful and guilty at the same time.

Breathed once, clearing his head, before setting out on the track to the small settlement near-by, despite his doubts hoping for the best.

Their trek not too long, going by in a flash to his troubled mind, several people training weapons on them until the patch on his jacket was discovered by one of them, the body they were carrying painting the settlers a clear picture of what they wanted.

A blonde coming out through the gates, directing them into a ramshackle building.

"I don't have a lot of supplies here, I..."

The woman was a tad smaller even than Olivier, hair blonde and short, sticking up in all directions. A pair of glasses on her nose, one side slightly cracked. Looked as thin as all the others here, dressed in an overall that had seen better days.

Interrupted her, all of his energy seeming to leave him.

"We brought enough, will bring another injured person in during the next hour. You'll treat them for?"

"500 caps each!"

Would've chuckled, if he'd have felt capable of it.

"We'll give you a thousand each and you'll keep your mouth shut about us ever having been in the region?"

The woman nodding swiftly, moving away then, probably fearing that he'd take back his offer. Started to tend to Buccaneer with the things she had, her supplies soon bolstered up with the arrival of the rest of the crew, Henschel carrying an unhappy looking Olivier in his arms, setting her down next to where he sat.

Felt her lean against him, her hand searching for his, the shivers running through her body. Could not imagine the pain she had to be in, the exhaustion she must be feeling, though her whispers were so clear to him, her voice so strong still.

"He'll be alright, right?"

Whispered back, while the pain in his chest strengthened so much that it almost became unbearable.

"The Doc, she said her names Patricia, thinks that he'll pull through, though it'll take some time until he can be on the road again."

Felt her relax against him, her head falling onto his shoulder, her sigh audible, drawing the Docs gaze for a moment. And as they were alone in the shack, safe for Buccaneer and the Doc, she whispered to him what had happened the last few days.

His hand squeezing hers in tune, tears shed over fallen men swiped away without any words spoken. His heart clenching again, painfully, when he became aware that, though the plan had been harebrained and dangerous, his mistrust in Buccaneer was very much misplaced. Felt fear surge through him again, guilt, upon that realization too, shame rising up.

The sudden understanding that he could've not just lost her today, but both, hitting him like a ton of bricks, leaving him winded. Felt her hands now swipe at his face, their communication still silent perfection, leaving the Doc in the room perplexed.

Held Olivier tight, for he couldn't hold Buccaneer too, and only let go when the Doc wanted to treat her.

Anger rising again when forceps pulled a rock salt-bullet out of her chest, having burnt and hurt in there for days now.

He hated the Khans, simple as that, for what they dared to do to the people he loved.

Both of them.


	25. Chapter 25

Their guests were peculiar.

The blonde woman, called the Sir by most of the others, and Olivier by the two closest to her, had wounds that were each several days old. Not to mention that one of her entourage, Hicks if she remembered it right, pried a slave-collar from her neck a few hours after arrival, revealed to be hidden under a well-placed neckerchief.

Then there was the dark-skinned man, his hair white and bound into a ponytail after the first night of their stay, his eyes _red_ of all colours impossible. Was fast and strong, not injured himself, but basically bathed in blood upon arrival. At all times keeping close to her two patients, while also the stand-in boss for the other guests.

And then there was curious-case number three, a man who'd freely told her that his name was Buccaneer a few hours after waking up. She'd treated several bullet wounds, the one to his chest so close to important organs that it was probably only thanks to well-administered stimpaks that he'd survived. One of his arms artificial, a technology she'd never seen before, and with care she hid that from the others in the settlement.

They'd scream synth, had almost done the same with the dark-skinned man too, though she'd told them that he had an eye-condition, the man now constantly wearing dark-tinted glasses. Were not happy at all with her having let the people in, more than a dozen, though when she told them how much they paid, they'd shut up swiftly.

Not that she held that backwater place dear to her heart, crops refusing to grow in the sandy ground, their closeness to this thrice-damned factory showering them in hungry raiders.

But for a few days she had work different from the usual digging in the dirt, their guest putting their apparent muscle to good use, helping with the fields. She was busy with her patients, the big guy having woken up after two full days of sleep, disoriented and only calmed by the dark-skinned one, called Miles.

She had to clean his wounds and change bandages periodically, though he'd need rest for quite a while still. Was happy to be propped up on some pillows, keeping watch next to the blonde, one of their men always there to entertain and talk to him. The only thing she'd felt the need to stop was a shouting match between him and Miles, held as soon as the big guy was fully awake and thinking clearly again. Had intervened, mourning all the while that the slight blonde had fallen into the deep sleep of infection only hours before, seemingly the one that could order them all to shut up easily.

Had pried a rock salt-bullet from the woman’s chest, embedded into her flesh deeply. Had to rinse the wound, cleaning and bandaging it. The process had hurt, as the woman, Olivier her name, had asked her to not administer anymore med-x, fearing addiction after her captors seemed to have pumped her full of it.

Had a broken leg too, the makeshift cast exchanged for another, though she liked to think that hers was way better. Found a pair of broken ribs and splinted to fingers, also broken, though Olivier had not even noticed that until she'd pointed it out.

The wound worrying her the most though the laceration at the blonde’s hairline, not deep, but looking like it had been dipped in dirt. It had looked and smelled infected when they'd first arrived here, but she'd been too busy with the heavily bleeding man to do something about it.

And after cleaning it out and sewing it shut, it became clear that Olivier would have to fight through the infection, first signs already showing, the fever and sleep she'd fall into probably going to last a few days.

The timeframe in which all three of her curious guests were awake only a few hours long.

Went outside, Olivier still sleeping, though her fever had broken the night before, Buccaneer resting too. Was greeted by Miles, face bespectacled and a mask of coolness, hair drawn up into a ponytail. The people at the settlement pried on him more than once, leading him to withdraw. He spoke with her freely, if quietly, though.

"You know when I can move these two?"

Shrugged, though she was indeed sure, something else on her mind.

"If you have a way to keep them off their feet, I'd say when the Sir wakes up. You'll get them back to Diamond City?"

She'd heard stories about the Wall of Diamond City, the incredible city surrounding it, impressed and intrigued. The man nodding.

"By Brahmin, yes. The men are set to return with a small caravan tomorrow at the latest and then we should be back in three days’ time. Four, if we take it slow."

Checked if anybody was near, speaking lowly now, her gazes not having gone unnoticed by the man.

"And it's true that there's synths in your ranks?"

Felt his eyes burn into her, glasses or not.

"So you can ready your pitchforks?"

Her answer swift.

"So I can _flee_ the pitchforks!"

His change of stance, from one foot to the other, telling her that he'd understood.

"I guess we'll need someone to keep an eye on them during our way back to Central. They're both rather... fussy."

Let a small smile slip onto her face, keeping herself from the sigh of relieve.

"I've noticed."

The other man chuckling, though speaking on then, quietly still.

"What will you tell _them_?"

Meaning the people in the settlement, which gained him a shrug.

"They'll be happy to be rid of another hungry mouth. There's no caravans coming by here, the region is too dangerous. And I'm not good enough of a fighter to go alone."

Miles snort audible.

“They do not care for a Doctor?”

Could hardly keep the disdain out of her voice.

“Not when nobodies dying. And I’m not cut out for fieldwork, they berate me for not pulling my weight all the time. Not to mention that other thing…”

Knew that the man understood, though his next question was pragmatic.

“How shall we go about the departure? Do you want to go quietly, or…?”

Snorted.

“Heck no. I’ll just walk out with you if that’s alright?”

The man smirking.

“However you like it. We’ll get you to Diamond City at least, though you’ll have to impress the Sir if you want to stay at the Wall.”

Nodded in understanding, left then to check on her patients.

And a mere twenty-four hours later, her few pieces of armour strapped to her body, an old pistol at her hip, she walked with the Wall’s caravan in the direction of the biggest city anybody in the vicinity knew. Felt free when leaving the small settlement behind, happy with her choice. Could not wait to finally see more of the world then white walls and a muddy heap of hovels.

Though she could not deny the second thoughts when trying to get Buccaneer back onto the Brahmin. Or when she had to hide the crutches from the Sir.

Still smiling though, her life so infinitely more exiting.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another one today, because I have the time and want to get this small arc to a close before you have to wait ages again^^ I hope you like it ;)  
> The next Arc will mark the beginning of the last one, as I've decided to split this whole story in two mulitchaps, to make it more accessible and to give myself a break in-between too, without making you wait for the next chapter for weeks on end ;)

“Really Liv, on the stairs that brought us into this mess in the first place?”

Remained sitting, her crutches having tumbled down the stairs fifteen minutes ago anyways, sighing in tune with the dog next to her.

ArcJet was a huge Pitbull-like dog, at least according to her pre-war books. Looked red from head to paws, menacing in a way, though was a big softy. Was next to her at almost all times since they made it back to the Wall, feeling her unrest.

They’d arrived in the city in the dead of night, about three days ago. Not many had seen, though Miles told them the next day that people were sending them their best regards, glad that they made it back in one piece. And the evening of that first night, before keeling over and falling asleep from exhaustion, she’d noticed how abuzz the people at the Wall were, not telling her what was going on. Their secrecy not lessening the blow when instead of Slocum, ArcJet sat at the foot of the bed.

She’d asked Miles, able to still hold the tears back, if he’d at least gone quietly, while asleep. Getting the answer that Slocum had left through the cities gates, rather.

The guards had left them open, should they arrive in a hurry, enemies at their back. And the dog had been restless at the Wall with her gone, according to the men, had been sniffing about and more than once kept from running off. But had slipped through a full market, four days after she was set to return with her initial caravan, brushing legs while running fast. The guards had not been able to catch him, and nobody had found him as of yet either.

Miles telling her, holding her hands while Buccaneer hugged her from behind, that everybody they were friends with was on the lookout.

“It’s boring to only sit around, you know that!”

Tried to push her worries about Slocum down, at least able to admit to herself that she could not search actively for him at the moment. Instead let another worry come to the forefront, having to do with the two stubborn men she’d decided to share her life with.

Watched as Miles leaned her crutches against the handrail, coming up the stairs without them, squeezing himself next to her.

ArcJet huffed.

“And your adventures were cut short by fleeing crutches?”

“One of stair treads is somewhat loose, probably what had the man fall down the stairs back then. But anyways, now that I have you alone…”

Wound an arm around him, carefully, since done with her infection, headaches having subsided too, her broken ribs and leg the things hindering her the most.

“What’s that shit with Buccaneer and you?”

Shared their bed still, all three of them, though she now felt like a buffer between them, a barrier, keeping important truths from being said. Reasons from being uncovered and understood.

Felt Miles hands sneaking around her, under the bend of her knees and her lower back, lifting her up effortlessly. Carried her to their room, slowly, not looking like he particularly enjoyed the thoughts he was thinking.

Finally talking, when only a few steps away from their door, ArcJet pushing it open with his snout.

“I’m afraid Liv, afraid that what I’ve said will shatter what we build!”

Her head close to his when he carried her like this, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“And I’m afraid that silence will be what shatters it. Let’s get it out of the way, please?”

Let herself be carried inside, Buccaneer greeting them with a shout, propped up against some pillows.

“Hey, and, how far did you make it?”

Was being set down on the bed, smiling at the man’s enthusiasm.

“To the tumble-stairs, but then I lost my crutches. So no new record.”

Watched Miles close the door out of the corner of her eye, got as comfortable as one could with what was to come, her back against a pillow, leaning on the wall. ArcJet jumping into bed, more than heavy enough to make the mattress dip, snuggling himself against her. Miles returning to the bed too, taking an unclaimed pillow, putting it beneath her broken leg.

The mood in the room shifting, Buccaneer quick to catch on.

“So, we gonna talk about it, huh?”

His tone of voice not angry, or harsh, but not happy either.

She’d talked with both about it, on several and separate occasions, but knew that it was them that had to duke it out. Heard from Patty, their newest addition to the Wall, that shortly after Buccaneer gaining full consciousness the two had tried to start a shouting match, which she’d stopped immediately. Yet, it hung in the air, in the missing touches.

In an ease, lost.

“You were willing to let me die?”

Buccaneer very clearly not keen on beating around the bush. Miles almost froze, shook, a sure-fire sign that anger was to come, or unrestrained tears.

His voice speaking of the former.

“I thought you’d sold us out! That you betrayed us! I really thought you were going to join forces with your brother!”

Met with Buccaneers voice gaining in volume too. Put her hand to ArcJet’s head, close to his collar, feeling how agitated the dog was by the shouting.

“Why the fuck would I leave you behind, sell you out? You were the first two people that treated me like more than a thrice-damned piece of dirt! Loved me! You think I’d give that up?!”

She looked from one to the other, her stomach in knots, not knowing how it would end.

“I don’t know what you’d give up! This man was your family!”

“And I smashed his face in, because he threatened my real family! He wanted to touch Liv, he would’ve killed you if given the chance! You know so much about my past Miles, why’d you think I ever go back?”

Felt that something was coming, a kind of revelation, the heart of the matter.

“Because I do not know the pull of a fucking past Buccaneer! I don’t have one!”

Silence stretching to what felt like an eternity, both men breathing hard. Miles was standing at the side of the bed, Buccaneer sitting on his knees.

And Miles shocking words said at the Ironworks, “Save him, or leave him?”, suddenly made sense to her. Helped her understand the man better, sharing the last decade of her live with him or not.

It was true, Miles had no past, at least not a long and winding one like Buccaneer and her. He only had unrelated snippets, with little emotion to them. He’d once said that she was all he knew, and as such the thing his heart hinged the most on. Probably overestimated what having a past meant, that it was not the same as longing, that…

“Miles…”

Buccaneers voice so soft, cutting through her thoughts, the silence, making her heart ache.

“Miles, no past could pull me away from the present! I love you, I love Olivier! I know that my actions were brash, that I should’ve talked with you. There is no excuse for that. But I have no desire to return to Vegas, to the people that raised me! I only tried to keep Liv save, because believe me, I know the person that snapped this slave-collar around her neck too well!”

Let the words sink in, Miles red eyes a deep pool of swirling emotions. Positioned herself a bit more upright, speaking up.

“Miles, sit down.”

Tried to be as soft as she could, which wasn’t very much, but still enough to have him sink to the edge of the bed.

Buccaneer sliding towards him on his knees, while she, not without some difficulty, used her hands. Her coming to rest on his right, the big guy on his left. Felt the shivers running through him, knew him to well, that he was feeling guilty the most. That he’d regretted his words, his actions, as soon as she’d told him the full story.

But she could get behind his fear, that losing her, losing the little bit of past he had, was terrifying him, making his mind go almost blank.

His voice quiet, sounding like the tears were fighting their way out.

“I fucked it all up for us, haven’t I? Things will never be like they were before, they…”

Words silenced by Buccaneer, pressing his lips to Miles, making her smile.

Miles tended to overthink, to be too hard on himself. Maybe that was because his lack of experience he could rely on, maybe that had been his nature from the very beginning. She didn’t know and really didn’t care, because all that mattered that they reassured him.

The kiss of the two coming to an end, Miles sitting open mouthed and with his eyes closed. Her using that moment to speak, the words said after something like this always the kind that burned themselves onto your heart.

“Miles, you’re allowed to make mistakes, to judge wrongly. That’s part of being human. We love you for that!”

Kissed him too then, turned his heads toward her and down some too.

Felt his tears against her face, his muscles relaxing. Happy herself, hoping that the matter was as resolved as it could be now, knowing that it would still haunt them for a while. But they’d made a big step in the right direction.

It was Buccaneer speaking up and ArcJet nudging her in the back, both having the right idea.

“How about a nap?”

All of them moving like they’d done it a thousand times before, the big guy pulling Miles to be in the middle, pushing one arm beneath the white-haired man’s head, the other thrown over his chest. Nuka pressing herself somewhere between them, their shuffling having roused her from her deep slumber at the foot of the bed.

Olivier herself, with some help from Miles now, taking his other side, flat on her back. Her leg propped up, pressing herself as close to Miles as humanly possible, all the while taking the hand Buccaneer offered. His other, the one belonging to the arm their lover rested on, tangling in her hair, softly. Her lumpy dog taking her other side, starting to snore loudly.

Silence falling, muscles relaxing, and sleepy thoughts coming to her mind, memories from so long ago.

Stood with her mother next to a motorbike, she must’ve been a little kid still, both working on the thing used to herd the Brahmin. It had broken down, they’d been repairing it and her mother had given her advice, telling her that it applied to machines and people alike.

_“Things don’t just work, Livvie-kins, you make them work!”_

Smiled to herself, the wisdom of her mother, not even able to be mad at the unloved nickname.

Miles and Buccaneer’s in-tune snoring finally able to make her fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But while we're at it: Between the two main arcs I think I'll do a collection of one-shots, ranging from humourus to things you wondered about in this universe. Any ideas? Wishes? Backstories or stories at all I shall elaborate on? Let me know ;)
> 
> And thanks for sticking with me :D


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay loves, here we have the beginning of a new ark :D  
> I probably won't be able to post a chap daily like I did, though I worked a bit in advance, simply because I'm working overtime a lot at the moment. And if it's between posting or falling into bed ;) I'll post whenever I can though :D
> 
> So, have fun :D

“Des, I think this is a really bad idea.”

Roy turned slowly, having felt hours ago that Riza would speak up if push came to shove.

The plan was harebrained at best, downright dangerous and just wrong. He’d voiced his unease already, though it didn’t have much of an impact on their leader, but that Riza voiced doubts seemed to make Desdemona think.

“We have seen what can happen already, when we touch upon the memory of Synth-hybrids. Miles alone killed seven people and holds quite a grudge against us. And I won’t have to remind you how morally wrong it just is!”

Riza was right of course, Roy had understood such too late when they’d been in the near-same situation with Miles years ago. She’d already been outspoken against the plan then, though he’d still disregarded her opinion at that time.

Desdemona folded her arms in front of her chest, her sigh almost a low grumble, her voice stern and gaze steely.

“Then what are we supposed to do? Our tourists claim that the man is deranged and violent! The gunners at Jamaica Plain? Or the Raiders in that ramshackle house to the south? He did not just kill them, he ripped them apart!”

Riza not agitated on the ledge she was sitting on, perching like the hawk she was. Instead spoke calmly, showing how much she’d really thought about the matter.

“Talk to the Wall, get the Sir to let Miles handle it. He’d be…”

Desdemona cut right in, angrily.

“I’ll not leave another one of these super-strong hybrids to Olivier! It’s bad enough that she got Miles under her thumb, not to mention all those others she fiddled past us!”

Roy felt the need to speak up, though knew that he sounded much more agitated than Riza.

“Des, Miles may be able to connect to the man! Don’t you think that we should seek out a non-violent solution if possible?”

It was Glory, standing far in the back and leaning against the wall that spoke up full of disdain.

“Yeah, listen to those two Des! You promised, no mind-wipes without consent anymore!”

An angry retort came swiftly from the addressed woman.

“They killed two runners Glory! Two! We thought those guys to be almost impossible to kill and the Wall has killed two of them without telling us! I don’t think we should think of them as allies!”

Roy shook his head, folding his arms.

“Des, they lost plenty of men to that from what we gathered, so we can be sure that runners are fucking hard to kill. But this scarred guy is no runner, just someone who escaped the Institute and is probably scared out of his mind!”

Riza backed him up instantly, her voice still so very calm admits this tense argument.

“Remember what the people at the memory den said about Miles, that there’s _decades_ of memories inside of his head? Maybe that’s the case with the other one too, with the added difficulty that the Institute maybe not wiped him before getting rid of him, or him fleeing? His memories could be good for us!”

It was a daring course she proposed, Roy was aware of that. Also of the fact that Riza had no intention to just use the guy, was really set instead on making a normal life possible for him. She’d not been there when they’d tried to wipe the until then unresponsive Miles, but she’d cared for the wounds Roy had sustained that day when he returned to Diamond City, had lit candles at the funeral for their allies lost to the incident.

Riza was trying to lure Des into a peaceful solution and it seemed to be working from the way their leader chewed on her lip.

“He could know a way inside, that much is true. And maybe he escaped of his own violation and wasn’t thrown to the trash like Miles. He after all seems to be much more functional than Miles had been at that point in time, if one turns a blind eye to his apparent violence.”

Roy suddenly feeling on edge, the sound of hasty footsteps nearing through the underground-hallways. Des seemed oblivious to it.

“I’ll allow for a peaceful approach, though we can only risk one try, by one of our own. And we shouldn’t rule the possibility out that the man is a trap set by the Institute and nothing more, so I need everybody to be on the lookout! And if I hear that anybody of you involved the Wall…”

Desdemona’s words cut off by the door banging open, their little group looking at Deacon.

“Bad news guys!”

Roy knew Deacon since his childhood in Diamond City, though was still amazed when under the blond wig and thick glasses the man emerged, only long years of studying his gait having tipped him off about him being the real thing. And the little fact that no alarms had been raised.

“Talk!”

All of them hanging on Deacons lips then.

“Trouble near Saugus Ironworks. A whole village was wiped out, seemingly after refusing camp to a lone wanderer. People close by said they’ve seen the hybrid-guy we’re looking for lurking around the area.”

Des was straight to the point.

“You sure that he did it?”

Deacon nodded.

“The corpses all show the same marks, head grabbed, and skulls crushed with bare hands and some kind of energy-weapon fired from a short distance. And from what I heard the guy is moving towards Boston.”

Deacon shivered before he spoke, a deep sadness in his voice.

“The wandering Doctor’s Rockbell are amongst the victims, too, one of our guys recognised them.”

Glory sighed over at the wall, Riza closed her eyes momentarily. And Roy too knew what would be done now, there was no doubt about it. They could not let a synth run around freely and kill people, not when it was so blatantly obvious that it was indeed a synth doing such things. It would feed the already rampart prejudice.

Desdemona nodded severely, only a hint of triumph in her eyes.

“We’ll surround him before he can enter the city and hide. Or worse, be found by someone other than us. Get a team ready and everything we could use to restrain the man. Remember how strong Miles was back then when using his full strength and set our best people to come up with counter-tactics. And someone inform the people of the memory den!”

Glory spat on the floor, while Riza shimmied off her ledge when all of them started to move, by his side in an instant, bare arm touching his.

“I don’t like this. I don’t like this one bit!”

He did neither.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this one through :D
> 
> Suggestions are always appreciated ;)


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exposition, expostion... have another, the action starts tomorrow ;)

_“We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when!”_

Olivier stopped before the last few stairs to the roof, turning her head towards Miles and raising an eyebrow. He smiled in response to the voice singing so close by.

_“But I know we’ll meet again, one sunny day!”_

Their steps echoing in the near-silence by the needle no longer scratching on the Vinyl, the metal underneath their feet tipping Buccaneer off that they were coming closer. Olivier grinning when Miles spoke up.

“I know for a fact that you own more than this one record!”

Buccaneer turning around, decked out in worn-out jeans and an off-white shirt, scratching where shoulder and prosthetic-arm met. A grin on his face and only a touch of a blush.

“The songs got charm Miles! Reminds me of you!”

The big guy winking, Miles rolling his eyes and Olivier filled with the need to get them on track, however endearing their banter was.

“Your taste in music aside Bucc, nice singing voice by the way,” the big guy bowing to her, only in parts mocking, “but there’s news we wanted to discuss with you.”

Buccaneer nodded, turning the player completely off, while Miles and she got comfortable close by. Weapons laid out on the ground, facing the direction of the ruins of Boston, all three still aware that they were also in charge of keeping watch for now. The sun so warm today, beating down on them, that Olivier shrugged out of the top-part of her overall, exposing her bare arms to the sun.

Miles eying the tank-top, Buccaneer too, though it was the former that did more than make her feel wanted.

“You’re going to burn this way!”

Olivier rolled her eyes, not commenting on that, yet shooting the dark-skinned man a stern look. Buccaneer laughed, stretching out his legs, which promptly bumped into hers and Miles. This was all close contact they dared outside of the Wall, not for fear of getting caught, everybody knew anyways, but because of the legitimate fear of melting together. The sun had been unrelenting for the last month.

She decided to finally get to the point, their time uninterrupted always sparse.

“The bird of prey informed me this morning that there’s apparently truly a Synth-hybrid on the run and that he is closing in on Boston. He’s seemingly killed several people and carrot-top wants to memory-wipe him.”

Miles had heard this information before, Buccaneer too, though it had never been sure if it could be trusted, if it was legit.

Buccaneer narrowed his eyes a little.

“I thought all communication with traders had ceased for the time being?”

Had picked up on their code quickly, by now using it perfectly and without a hitch. They only masked names and the Railroads name, which made their conversations weird, but unintelligible to outsiders.

“It has. But when I walked the dogs this morning I heard a few things on the marketplace.”

Miles chuckling, though she could see that these news troubled him.

“Black Hayate is coming along well?”

She nodded.

“He’s growing into a fine dog, yes. Also, the young Miss Hawkeye told me that McDonough is agitated because of something, that her dear Roy is _drowning_ in work.”

Buccaneer and Miles grinning at her tone of voice, mocking and impatient, though they got the true meaning of it all right.

Almost three months ago they’d discarded the news of someone looking peculiarly like Miles as nonsense, though a lot had happened since then, several near-death experiences among that. Had, when back at the Wall again, ordered her network of informants to stay on the lookout for the man, just in case. And he’d indeed killed, though as far as she knew only Raiders and Gunners, which was fine by her books.

The silence from the Railroad was what had her truly on edge though, after her leg being healed up mostly not one tourist, nobody, coming up to them. Only Riza and Roy sometimes approaching her in the city, though with little information and conveying that Desdemona did not want any news spilling over to her. Instead keeping up the good neighbourhood they’d always fostered, though she kept attentive there too, understanding the hints Roy and Riza dropped her.

“You think he knows of the Hybrid? I mean, I would be on edge too if someone like that is nearing my city. No offense Miles.”

Buccaneer looked at the other man apologetically, though Miles just waved his concerns away.

“Don’t worry, I get it Bucc. So, we know the Hybrid is going around killing people? Mindlessly, or is there a pattern?”

Olivier made a face.

“Mostly Raiders and Gunners, which fits with the things _our_ people tell me. But apparently the village we were after the,” she paused for a long moment, her men understanding anyways, “…where we picked up Patricia, was wiped out. And the bird of prey said something about there being casualties from another place, though she did not disclose whom.”

Miles and Buccaneer swore at the same time.

“Shit!”

“My sentiment exactly. And it does not sit well with me that they wanna pull a Miles on him, no offense Miles,” out of the corner of her eye she saw him waving this away, too, “so I want to stay close when they try to intercept the guy.”

Buccaneer leaned back, coming to rest half-on-top of Miles.

“So, we’ll stay ready to move out as soon as we see something suspicious?”

Olivier nodded.

“Will we need to set up more people to watch the wastes for us?”

Buccaneers question answered by Miles before she could.

“We’ll just inform those that already are keeping their eyes open for Slocum. Wouldn’t surprise me if they find him the second they are ought to be looking for something else, too. They’ve never been keen on working double the job!”

Olivier laughed, despite the gnawing pit in her heart. Slocum was still missing, no body had been found, no trace of him had been seen. She’d made a few tours with Miles and Buccaneer separately, neither willing to let her go alone, nor to keep the Wall without one of them. Nothing but a few scraps of fur she’d found, her other dogs not able to trail Slocum either.

She felt that he was still out there though, not willing to give up hope.

Arms wrapping around her despite the heat, pulling her close. More than two, the rifts between them closed, doubts not having a place within their hearts after the events of the last few months. With a heavy breath she let herself be held for several moments, until with a slight push signalling her men to let go.

Without hesitation they did, just moments after resettling again heavy footsteps to be heard on the metal-staircase.

“Ma’am?”

Herman was the only one at the Wall that called her that, when he did not use another unloved nickname.

She grunted for him to keep on talking, turning around.

“Mayor McDonough is in front of the Wall and wants to talk to you. Something about you helping with upping the defences.”

Olivier nodded, getting up and dusting herself off and zipping her overall back up again.

“Thank you, Herman, tell him I’m on my way. Let’s hope this time he does not just appeal to us being _loyal citizens_ though.”

Herman jogging down the stairs quickly at that, Olivier turning to her men one more time. Miles spoke up, having fallen back into the lounging position after his attentive one.

“We’ll set up the lookouts with the new information this evening. You’ll get us should you need help with McDonough?”

She chuckled, Buccaneer too.

“You’ll hear me then!”

Jogged down the stairs, sparing the two lounging about men, _her_ lounging about men, one last look. They were right asses, for getting a break when she didn’t.

Yet when she thought about what they’d talked about, what McDonough wanted from her, she couldn’t shake the bad feeling coiling in her gut. Occupied herself instead with taking stock of how many weapons they had at their disposal, trying to think of all her caravans going out next week, too. The air inside the Wall mercifully cool, easing her mind just the littlest bit.

Which was good, because negotiating with the Mayor was so much easier if she did not scream her head off.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one will be a bit of a wait, because I'm out tomorrow evening and the day after too. But latest at the weekend I should be able to post again :D  
> Enjoy :D

He was too quick for their pot-shots.

By now he’d understood that someone in a predominantly green outfit and heavy weaponry, paired with what seemed to be basic common-sense, was called a Gunner in the wasteland.

Several of such shooting at him, though their bullets only hitting the air next to, or the ground below him. Those closing in with melee-weapons obliterated by hands he felt were moving of their own.

His eyes searching for cover when all immediate threats were dealt with, his left grabbing a dropped knife from the earth and hurling it up to the second story of the wooden building, where it embedded itself into the forehead of an irritatingly persistent shooter.

The momentary calm when it came to bullets flying towards him he used to devise a plan, knowing that he needed to get close to trigger whatever the weapon embedded into his left arm truly was.

And with a quick series of jumps, when he heard the few people left in the building regroup, he was first on top of the wooden-structure and worked himself to ground level from there.

The butt of a weapon closing in, accompanied by the startled cry of a young man, silenced by his hand pressed to the face and a red beam of light illuminating the room shortly.

It smelled of burned flesh when he was done with the Gunners but was still breathing heavily.

Supressed his gag-reflex and tried not to look at the mangled bodies in- and outside of the building, not giving himself time to think about the instincts that seemed to define his every action as soon as he entered anything that resembled combat.

With the adrenaline, or whatever drove him to fight and use that strange weapon his arm was, subsiding, he remembered his objective again, the reason he’d gone to this ramshackle house in the first place. Roamed through boxes and crates not long after, in search for the parts listed off to him, not knowing what the names meant, yet identifying the articles flawlessly as soon as he saw them.

Tried not to dwell on it, these holes in his mind and thinking not something he could explain. Only knew that one day the door to his chamber had not closed right, that he’d been out and about in a facility startlingly white. After a bit of searching and avoiding all forms of life that passed him, he’d found old and unused tunnels, less white, less _clean_.

They’d found him there, others like him and at the same time not, had helped him get topside.

The days since then had been spend overwhelmed by all the things he saw, all the memories rushing back. He’d felt sick for several weeks at a time but remembered more with every day. And while he stumbled through the wasted lands, his arm, flesh from the outside and the outside only, had taken the lead in every dangerous situation.

He’d killed, with little remorse, for the people had always shot first. Had looked strange, clad in cobbled-together clothing or the strict green on the Gunners. After some time, he’d found the place the others from the underground had told him to go to, a bespectacled and bitter man he’d _recognised_ almost sending him into a fit of killing again.

Instead he’d fought against the urge, soon given food, drink and new clothes. And a job to do.

He let the pieces of metal drop into the bag he’d been given, knowing they were magnets and tesla-coils and many other things, though did not know what that _meant_. Took his loot instead, the things the bespectacled man had told him were needed if they wanted to rescue more and looked at the sun in the sky to discern the direction he had to go to.

In the distance Saugus Ironworks looming, the ability to read the old-timey letters on the building coming as a surprise, yet those were a dozen to him every minute. Instead the thoughts about the village close by came to the forefront, where he’d been sent to retrieve a few items.

Because of the colour of his eyes they’d refused him entry, had screamed and insulted him. He’d been ready to turn back around, to get the man that send him to do this task and tell him to go himself, but they’d shot at him when he’d turned to go.

His arm taking over, violence overruling his brain and stopped from it by nothing. Not even the two not part of the village spared, his blinding rage during the fight not allowing for it. Afterwards he’d sat amongst the carnage, having found a picture during his usual pillage for the needed items.

The guilt dared to consume him, yet he knew that his anger for being cast out, for him being different, which those people had been able to tell just from his eyes, was not wrong. That something like this must’ve been going on for years, that killing was a part of him.

Though he did not know why.

He’d walked aimlessly for a while afterwards, until returning to the man that send him out. Had been told that his rage, his anger and disappointment, was not wrong when aimed against those that cast _them_ out.

Those that were offended by them being _different_.

And so, he’d kept on working for the man, who promised him to get rid of the circuits that connected his arm and brain, that were taking his decisions from him. He’d be able to decide fully for himself who deserved retaliation for the horrible things done to those like him, able to spare those at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Images flashing in front of his mind, still not making much sense, but there anyways.

Two pairs of red eyes, none of which his own, dark skin peeled back to reveal circuits and steel, blood pumping alongside those. People calling to wipe memories and to ready subject nineteen for another overload.

Remembered a name being called, though not sure whom it belonged to.

A yelp pulling him out of his thoughts, forcing his eyes away from the factory in the distance. Carefully he walked through the underbrush, a clearing coming up ahead, the yelping getting louder. The creature, one paw caught in a trap, shivering upon seeing him.

Neither his arm, nor his brain, released adrenaline upon smelling the blood, did not react to the fear in the creature’s eyes. It had to be a dog, though thin and tired. One leg mauled by the trap digging into its flesh, another swollen, thick with what had to be an infection.

He closed in on the animal, suddenly feeling that he ought to end its suffering, the trap probably having belonged to the village close by. Wondered for a moment though, why such a dog, looking like it had once been well-cared for, was _old_ , was here of all places.

Had it belonged to the village? Or wandered around here? Maybe was the partner of a hunter that had fallen to a beast of the wastes? The dog sported scars on its back, big enough to stem from one of the deathclaw’s he’d seen from a distance.

Dark eyes looked up at him, proud and tired, but not pleading. A chain was around the dog’s neck, dirty, twigs sticking to it, yet it sported a tag. Someone was probably waiting for him to come home.

A day maybe, spent in pure agony. Or two, the dog striking him as a stubborn one. With his muscles deciding for him, forcing him to move before his brain could catch up, he bend open the trap, slung what once must’ve been a powerful animal over his shoulders.

Now, the only kind of resistance the dog put up was a bit of insistent wiggling and a half-hearted try to bite him. Tensing his muscles a bit more, making sure not to get bitten, he decided to get going.

Blood instantly seeped into the back of his new shirt.

The dog would probably die on the way back to the bespectacled man, would bleed out or be too weak to be saved. And what could even be done in a case like this? But alas, he was on the way to severe the ties his clearly artificial arm had with his brain, so he stopped thinking about what was possible and what not. The man would decide, his name still weird, even when just thinking about it.

Knox would be thrilled.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the erratic updates, my life is a suffocating corset of time-constraints and duties atm. But it will get better soon :D

Through the scoop Riza looked at Roy’s back, watching him flip the switch on his flamethrower.

She still thought of Desdemona’s plan as hairbrained, if not downright dangerous. They’d pulled together a group of twenty people, forming two rings around the corner the hybrid-synth was set to round soon, if he’d stayed with his earlier route.

Of course, Riza had tried to talk to Des alone after the news that the Rockbells had died at the synths hands made the rounds, still pushing for a more peaceful approach, but the railroads boss was having none of that.

The synth would be circled and asked to disarm and come with them peacefully, otherwise they were to restrain him. Afterwards he’d be brought to the memory-den, his persona overwritten and a new place for him found. At least if things went according to plan.

And if things completely went south, Riza was to shoot the hybrid.

None of that sat well with her, nor this “plan” and neither Desdemona’s way of handling this whole affair. The railroad was there to help synths, to get them to safety and overwrite their memories only if it was the best way to ensure that the Institute would never find them again. That memories as a whole were only touched upon with consent.

That Des, many others too, were willing to throw these principles out of the window with the arrival of something unusual, made her queasy. Had her strengthen her resolve to never let them find out who her father truly was, that as a child she’d seen the white walls too.

Let her eye wander over Roy’s armour-clad back, scoped out Glory and Jean standing close to him, also part of the inner ring. Riza also having seen Desdemona’s red-mob in the second ring, the ringlets of grey smoke her constant consumption of cigarettes left making it easy to find her.

Her scope also having caught a black and braided ponytail, hours ago, before their own group had even gotten into motion.

Riza would be thrown out of the Railroad, maybe even liquidated considering her detailed knowledge, should ever come to light that she’d informed the Wall of Diamond City. But as she’d brought her beloved dog over to them this morning, Black Hayate often staying amongst the Wall’s dogs when she had to leave the city, she’d stuck a note to his neck-worn bandana. Had told the Sir just that, with a flick of her wrist and a move of her head.

The Wall had Miles, the lone person Riza still thought of being capable enough to keep the streets free of blood and death for today. And they also had heavy weaponry, power-armour and much more patience with people that did not want to become a part of something against their will.

As such, she was glad to know that they were close, would hopefully help to keep things from going south more than they needed to.

Her eye caught then by movement on the streets far below, the members of the Railroad taking cover and seemingly having chosen Roy as their spokesperson, as he was still standing in the middle of the streets, the flamethrower turned on and ready to shoot.

Riza loved Roy, simple as that, knew that he possessed a silver-tongue. But that did not make him impervious to bullets or fire and not at all to Synths, strong enough to break your bones with a hard grip. Kept him in her scope for the time being, waiting for the hybrid to show up with steady breaths.

He’d deterred from entering the Boston-ruins about a week ago for reasons unknown, instead taking a path into an area where their surveillance was stretched thin. But two days ago he’d turned up in the area again, hounded by their people ever since. Was set to ‘round the corner at any second now.

When the hybrid finally did, the tenseness in Roy’s shoulders visible down below, it still came as a surprise to Riza.

She’d have expected anything, ranging from someone looking close to a Raider, to one of those people only walking around in worn-out jeans and a white shirt. Instead she was looking at a man, as she knew with skin as dark as Miles’ and white hair, his face for the first time she’d seen him visible.

Features even, if stoic, the build one could see beneath the worn-out metal-armour speaking of a heavy-set man with wide shoulders and a lot of strength at their disposal. His eyes only seeming red to her because she knew that they were, seen by others before and the memory embedded into her mind. An x-shaped scar on his forehead, skin lighter than those surrounding hit, making it quite a defining feature of his.

The man’s right arm bare from the elbow down, though not looking abnormal in any way.

Roy was talking to him, offering the hybrid the palm of one hand, a gesture rendered useless by his other still on the switch of his weapon. The scarred man, his posture stiffening more and more, seemingly noting that he’d been trapped, was looking around now, more and more hectic.

Riza saw Desdemona step up to the ledge of the roof she was standing on, talking down to the hybrid, apparently much more agitated than Roy had been. Was cursing in her spot up here that she could not hear a thing, though the face of the scarred man contorted with what paired with his change in posture could only mean anger.

Trained her weapon on his forehead, hoping she would be quick enough if push came to shove.

Was startled somewhat, when the hybrids posture suddenly slackened, seemingly shocked. Readjusted her view, saw their circles opening, letting someone through. Riza watching how Roy turned, knowing him so well and understanding who’d just stepped into the Railroads midst’s.

Could see Desdemona seething up on her roof, though remained with her scope on the scarred man and watched breathlessly how Miles let his helmet fall to the ground. How he raised one hand in the air, unarmed, the other for a second nestling about on his face, before a pair of glinting and dark glasses fell onto the street below.

Riza could not hear but was breathless nonetheless while watching Miles step up to the hybrid, so very calm. Those of the railroad seemingly enticed by his voice, relaxing, the scarred man speaking as far as she could see, talking to the man looking so peculiarly like him.

Saw that Roy started to speak now too, having taken guidance from Miles approach seemingly, his flamethrower turned off and both palms visible to the hybrid, in a show of true intentions.

Something wrong, the dropping feeling in her stomach alerting her only moments ahead, the sound of Desdemona’s screaming reaching her ears, though Riza could not make out what was said.

Instead she saw the barrel of a gun pointed not at the scarred man, but at Miles, saw rage push its way forward, anger and then many things happened in quick succession.

Miles screamed something at the hybrid, some form of command.

Several of her own comrades lifted their weapons and shot at the scarred man, bullets and laser-beams dodged with inhuman agility. The man running, barrelling through their people and into an alleyway she knew led to a multiple-story building and offering no escape to anywhere else.

Desdemona kept on screaming from her position, either ordering or berating the others for not taking the seemingly desired action.

And only in the corner of her vision, Riza noting how she’d fallen into the role of a mere spectator, had _felt_ that it would be wrong to shoot the second Miles had started talking, she saw the Sir enter the stage these crossroads had become.

Pulling Miles away before harm could be done to him, by what looked like the scruff of his neck.

While getting ready to change positions, knowing that this was not yet over, Riza looked at Roy one last time.

Dark eyes gazing in her direction, nodding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it thus far and would love to hear your thoughts <3


	31. Chapter 31

“Ah shit!”

Miles would berate him for his swearing, yet Buccaneer did not care. Instead focused on jogging down stairs, finally able to understand why he’d felt so queasy about watching from this building.

It was an old skyscraper, not as tall as some of the buildings in Boston were, but sturdy and mostly intact. The windows were small, hallways winding and the walls thick and well isolated. You could fire a gun on one floor and it wouldn’t be heard anywhere else. It also only had one entrance, located in an alleyway between two buildings.

An alleyway he’d just seen the synth-hybrid they’d come here for in the first place run up, seemingly wanting to flee from the mob at his back.

Buccaneer trying to reach the cellar, where the crew of the Wall had opened up a hatch leading to the sewers ages ago, according to Liv. He’d entered through there, having mowed down Mirelurk after Mirelurk to make sure that this way was clear should he need to make a quick escape.

He’d heard Miles words, telling the scarred hybrid to run, to flee and hide.

Had started to run himself then, the plan to not interfere should the hybrid need to flee, but rather to help him inconspicuously. And Buccaneer hoped to do just that, to catch the man and lead him to the hatch deep in the underbelly of the skyscraper, from where they could escape unseen by the Railroad.

Which worked somewhat, a pair of angry red eyes landing on him, darting to the patch sewn onto his leather-jacket and a hand outstretched to attack him retreating a little again.

“Follow me!”

Buccaneer jogged down the stairs some more without even stopping, the hybrid behind him.

“Why?!”

Thought it a bit late to ask when following him already but decided to humour the man.

“Better than getting your memory wiped?”

The scarred one seemingly wanting to say something, as Buccaneer could practically hear the, hopefully, non-existent gears turn in the man’s head. But their talking, if one could call it that, ceased for several flights of stairs, soon a deafening silence typical for this building, sending a shiver down his spine.

Liv had found out about this plan of the Railroad via the dog she’d gifted to Hawkeye, the woman as far as he knew also an agent of said Railroad. Apparently not satisfied with their tactics, her note not only informing them, but directly asking them to take action.

And not only Miles had been hooked, but Liv and he too, quickly gathering a small team, as well as weapons and armour. Had sneaked close to the place where the capturing of the scarred man was to go down, spreading out to be as able to interfere as possible.

It had definitely not been the plan that Miles jumped in and talked the hybrid out of a violent solution, though Buccaneer thought that his love had done the right thing, as instead they’d wanted to wait for the moment in which the Railroad was transporting Scar to Goodneighbour for the trifling with his memories.

They’d initially planned to take him from there, when not so many of the Railroad could see, having even send some of the Ghouls from the Wall’s ranks, mostly living in Quincy and the Safety Net since McDonough threw them out of Diamond City, to Goodneighbour. Weeks ago to boot, as Liv had liked to be on the safe side and also wanted to know what was going on in the sovereign part of Boston.

His thoughts cut short by the light attached to his weapon falling onto the well-hidden latch, which was truly only a hole in the floor, leading to the sewers. Could feel the hybrids eyes on his back when he pulled away a steel-plate he’d thrown over the hole, knew that the man seized up his artificial arm, the prosthetic buzzing with the effort.

Jumped down wordlessly though, Buccaneer hearing the splash, only granting himself a moment of disgust before easing himself down, the cold-water seeping into his boots having him supress a gag. Instead he pulled on the metal yet again, hiding the hole but wasting no time, knowing that if the Railroad searched thoroughly, and they were prone to hidden tunnels and secret pathways, time wouldn’t be as plenty as he liked.

As such, Buccaneer raised his weapon again, a semi-automatic that Olivier had modded for him, the light sparse, but enough to help them sidestep the Mirelurk-carcasses.

The man walking at his back, radiating a tenseness he could feel, though there was little that could be done about that. Buccaneer could even understand it, recalling what Miles had told him of the days when his memories set in, how confused he’d been and afraid of his own body, somehow _knowing_ that a normal human body wasn’t as strong.

That his emotions had run wild, fear the strongest of them and fuelling everything else.

“You have a name?”

Buccaneer tired of calling him the scarred man, or the hybrid.

“I’m called Scar. I don’t remember another.”

He turned around once, in the hopes of lightening the mood a little, deadpanning.

“Creative.”

Walked on, Scar behind him huffing, the water sloshing. Buccaneer knew that there would soon be a kind of crossroads coming, Miles and Liv set to pick him up from there.

“What do you want with me?”

Did not show Scar that he was surprised at his willingness to talk, though gave himself some time to think anyways.

“There’s no set plan about what to do with you. We rather wanted to keep your memories from being wiped, we….”

Scar pretty clearly was the no-nonsense type.

“You want to know about the institute, how to get in then?! How to become part of that place?”

“So you know things?”

Buccaneer keeping calm, knowing that with a bit of luck Miles and Liv were already waiting for him, that Miles could explain it all better. Could sympathize.

Scar meanwhile silent, which prompted him to continue.

“Thought so. Listen up, we don’t mean you any harm, the one that spoke up there with you wasn’t lying about that. We just want you to decide yourself if you’d like to forget things and start a new life.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, as they also wanted Scar to keep creating a massacre like Miles had back then, right after being wiped. Wanted to save him that kind of guilt, wanted to not worsen the sentiment against synths with something like that happening.

Scar’s next words not surprising because of what they were about, but rather because of them being said so freely.

“There already is someone that tried to ease me into the life up here, has me run errands.”

Buccaneer felt a gruff laugh escape.

“Promised you something for your help?”

Did not need to turn around to see the nod, knew that he was right without any confirmation. Plenty of people helped synths, yet they all wanted something in return. The Railroad wanted to settle you in somewhere, making you forget all your troubles and never telling you what knowledge was hidden inside of you. The institute wanted you back because you were their property, because you belonged to them. They treated synths like pure machines, acting like they’ve not enabled them to feel and think and want.

Even Liv wanted something in return when she helped a synth, whether it be loyalty or just the promise of never coming back to kill her. At least she never took more than she gave.

And seemingly Scar had found a helper too, someone that send him on missions to retrieve whatever, promising him something very valuable in return. Buccaneer sure that if it weren’t like that, the man would’ve simply left the area by now, wandered far away to never look back.

“One of the rules up here in the wasteland is pretty easy to follow: never pay in advance if you don’t trust the person. Life becomes much safer when you heed it.”

The man at his back moving when there were sounds in front of them, the crossroads close, water deepening. Buccaneer feeling a fist pressed to his head, an arm coming around him and forcing him to lose his weapon. Heard a buzzing sound and did not fight the laugh bubbling up at that.

Standing in the chokehold, Scar ready to kill him any second, he spoke through his laughter.

“Should’ve heeded my own advice, huh?”

Noting that he should never trust someone new at his back.

Light hitting his face when he heard someone in front of them, knowing full-well that he was a hostage.

For now.


	32. Chapter 32

“Let him go now and I _may_ have mercy!”

Olivier was seething, simple as that.

First Miles goes against the plan, bringing himself into the perfect position to get shot, now Buccaneer, a weaponized-arm that had practically _folded_ open in front of her eyes pushed against his head.

“You got five seconds to let him go, or you’ve wreaked havoc for the longest time!”

She did not _want_ to off the scarred guy.

Olivier had seen the honest look of shock when Miles had revealed himself to him, told him that there was a chance at a normal life, that he could choose if he wanted to forget his past. But she’d also heard the words Desdemona had started to scream, quite clearly full of fear, that this man, this hybrid, had killed the Rockbells.

And she’d also seen that his first instinct upon weapons being drawn had been to shoot first, only Miles words stopping him from doing so.

“If I let go of him you’ll kill me.”

Buccaneer holding still at last, even though he kept on smiling for some inane reason, like he’d just gotten a joke after a long while.

“Let him go now and I _will_ have mercy!”

Wasn’t one for such promises but was also rather fond of Buccaneer’s head and did not want it to be blown to pieces because of her own stubbornness. Lowered her weapon, a mere fraction, while watching with well-hidden awe how the weapon the scarred man’s arm had expanded to, folded in on itself, the lines on his skin so thin that they were almost invisible.

Buccaneer walking towards her, not stumbling nor rushed, but still seeming very much amused.

“His name is Scar by the way.”

Olivier cocked an eyebrow, though kept her weapon trained on the man, turning him into the only thing illuminated in these dark sewers.

“Creative.”

Others put up their hands when a weapon was trained on them, Scar just balled his fists and was staring daggers at her. The glasses he’d worn back on the streets above seemingly lost, ensuring her that his irises were just as red as Miles.

“What are you going to do with me?”

She huffed, still not getting what was so amusing for Buccaneer at her side to snicker.

“You’ll come with us for now. Wanted to give you a few names and places when we busted you out and let you decide, but then you just had to bite the hand that feeds you.”

Olivier with a movement of her weapon made it clear that she wanted Scar to pass them, so he would walk in front, Buccaneer snickering again at that. Instead of asking though, she kept her eyes on the man now passing them, and an even closer eye on that arm of his.

She’d been there when Pinako Rockbell had opened parts of Miles body, the mix of metal and flesh. It had looked nothing like Scars arm. And now someone still much like Miles had gone and killed the old ladies son? Her daughter in law?

“Take this.”

Grabbed one of the twin pieces of metal hanging from her belt, giving one to Buccaneer when Scar was safely past them, walking in front.

Buccaneer taking the stick-formed metal, eyeing it in the sparse light, his grin finally vanishing.

“Is this what I think it is? Does Miles…”

“It was his idea. Only for emergencies.”

Was not cool with that, had protested, the measure feeling too extreme to her, too potentially dangerous for Miles, too. But she’d heeded his advice then, when he told her that disarming Scar, if only momentarily, could make the difference between life and death.

Scar brave, daring to open his mouth though at the same time smart enough to not turn around.

“Where is the other one, the one…?”

She felt herself grow stone-cold.

“Like you? Believe me, there are a few differences between you and him. Miles is at a safe place, so don’t worry too hard.”

Kept moving, knowing that they could not stay in this sewer forever, that depending on how thoroughly the Railroad searched the building, they’d sooner rather than later be followed. And despite all their differences and hatred for the other, she wasn’t as keen on shooting Desdemona, or anybody else from the Railroad for that matter, as people liked to believe.

“Up here!”

The ladder was welded metal and sewer-sludge and the second Scar started to only come with them at gunpoint she’d known that it would make things unnecessarily difficult. Yet, he lifted his hand to climb up, the one not prone to turn into a weapon at any second, a glint catching her eye.

Without thought she grabbed for Scar’s wrist.

“What is that!”

The chain-links familiar, the tint to the metal and the tiny donut attached to it by a keyring. A shiver running through her upon the memory of a yappy and jumping about Slocum, still almost a puppy then, his new and self-made collar clinking in the old Slocum Joe’s. Olivier thought that she must’ve been about seventeen, his giddiness making her smile for the first time since _then_.

Scar did not say anything, but neither pulled his arm away.

“Where did you get that?!”

Anger coursing through her, as it felt to her like Scar was wearing her lost dog’s collar almost like a trinket, a _trophy_.

Let go of his arm, not knowing what to do or how to feel, breathing hard. Buccaneer next to her indicating for the bewildered Scar to finally climb up the latter, though she felt the brush of a gentle hand at her back.

Watched, thoughts running wild and desperately hoping that Miles would get all the answers they wanted out of him, how Scar climbed the ladder, pushing aside the manhole cover above his head and climbing out.

Buccaneer right behind him, her lovers shout what she heard the second her own hands grabbed the first rung of the ladder in front of her, climbing up quicker than her mind could register the disgusting sludge on her hands.

Scar already flat on the street then, shivering and moaning, eyes unfocused. The metal-stick, the strong magnet Miles had insisted she take, on his back.

“Why do they always try to run?”

Buccaneer smiling at her sympathetically before hoisting the hybrid up, making sure that the magnet stayed on the mans body, throwing Scar over his shoulder.

“Let’s get him to Miles, wouldn’t want to be seen by the Railroad now.”

The big guys question easy, though there was worry in his eyes.

“He’s at?”

“Old Corner Bookstore. I had those with us today man the place, so we should be safe there and have some time to talk. It’s also close to Goodneighbour, should things turn south. Hancock still owes me a favour.”

Silence stretching while they walked, keeping to alleyways and well out of sight. Buccaneer looking at her from time to time, though having his hands full. Speaking into their silence when they were close to their destination.

“Just take it now, before he can destroy it accidently.”

And with a movement quicker than she would’ve thought possible from herself, more aggressive too, she pulled Slocum’s collar from around Scar’s wrist, holding it tight.

“He’ll have to answer a whole lot of questions.”

While Buccaneer spoke the old wooden door in front of them was opened without a hitch, admitting them into the building. Miles looking at them from the floor above, waving a greeting. In quick succession a chain was linked around Scars arm and a wooden beam, the magnet kept to the tips of his fingers while Miles kept his distance during that rearranging.

Only came closer when Olivier had put her own magnet well and far away, wordlessly showing him the chain she’d found, seeing that Miles understood just as Buccaneer had. The faces of the Rockbells flashing before her mind, the people at the village they’d met Sherry. Now Slocum among that gallery of people too, those she always had to think of when looking at Scars scarred face.

Her voice low when the man opened his eyes slowly, expression already defiant.

“A whole _fucking_ lot of questions indeed!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Answering may take a while lads, as well as updating, as I'm gone for a few days now ;)


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, this one gave me trouble, so I simply changed the plan of storytelling a bit^^ We'll get flashbacks to the bits missing now, though I know you guys are smart ;)  
> Happy reading :D

“Do you not remember me, 705 004?”

While Miles just slumped to his knees and then face-first into the dirt without so much as a blink, Buccaneer’s pulse went into overdrive just for him to desperately try and regulate it again. Trained his weapon more firmly on the man still seated behind the metal table, with a quick gesture ordering the men at his back to pull to them the twitching Miles.

“What did you just do?!”

Couldn’t help with his voice being a roar, knew that Olivier would be in soon now, if she’s heard it.

“Said his production code, or did it sound like something else? It would usually not render him useless like that, but I guess he’s been wiped?”

Buccaneer felt that there was nothing he could respond to that, was too busy with all the emotions he was ignoring and instead, Henschel pulling Miles out by his feet next to him, decided on the route Olivier had proposed.

“Whatever you know about that we can get it out of you later. Now: Name, what are you doing here and why did you send a dangerous hybrid out into the wasteland, not caring who he killed?”

A sigh from the man, semi-broken glasses glinting with the light coming in through the door, standing up slowly. A tiredness to his features, rugged and unshaven, aged.

“Dr. Knox I’m called, formerly affiliated with the institute, but I’m sure you know that already. Now I help synths that got out, even though you seem to see that differently, Mr….?”

Miles now out and Henschel flashing him a silent sign that all exits were secured, he felt safe enough to give his name.

“Buccaneer. Of the…”

Knox spoke over him without hesitation, though his tone changed to a less patient one.

“The Wall of Diamond City, I know. The patch on your jacket tells me as much, you know? You lot work with the Railroad, don’t you? Would’ve been a good place for a few of my Synths, but I wouldn’t want to risk you leaking information.”

Buccaneer shook his head, cleared it, trying to remember that he was the one with the brain from where he came, not just brawn. Tried his best to keep up with what he understood was a distraction from this Knox.

“Enough with the small talk now. We’re here because Scar, one of yours according to himself, has been known for murders all over the commonwealth and cited you as a reason for his travels. He even roused the interest of the Railroad, which almost ended in him being dispatched and wiped, as you called it so nicely before. Anything to say to that?”

While glad that Olivier had not just rushed in upon him getting loud, maybe busy with caring for Miles, Buccaneer now wanted her close. Not just for the usual reasons, but rather because of the way Knox moved, slowly and carefully, an imposing figure on his own.

“I wouldn’t know why I’m ought to explain anything to you. I’ve not held a gun to anybody’s head, nor have I ever…”

Buccaneer had never been so glad for her cold sneer before, or her creepy ability to just show up when he needed her the most.

Just behind Knox Olivier stood, plasma pistol pressed to his temple and bowie knife at the man’s neck. Had seemingly found another entryway, or pressed it out of Scar with a few threats, though the how wasn’t important right now.

Rather her impeccable timing.

“You will not play coy, nor try anything funny, okay? I’ve been forced to threaten violence so often lately; my nerves are stretched thin! How? Why? When? And quickly!”

Knox seemed to yield immediately, though not losing his proud stance.

“My contacts helped get Scar out after another test on him. You maybe noticed that he’s got an experimental weapon…”

It for some reason filled Buccaneer with joy that Olivier was clearly not ready to take any more shit these days.

“Yes, I got acquainted with that. _Fancy_.”

The sarcasm forced a snicker out of Henschel at his back, though with a look from dangerous blue eyes it was bitten back quickly.

A poke of her knife urged Knox on.

“He wants to be rid of that weapon, as it seems to engage into battle by itself when Scar’s sensors pick up threats. Must be a miswiring in his system, but I need supplies to be able to work on it. So he’s been running these errands for me, because the Institute is still trying to find me. Scar’s sensors are extremely sensitive, so there was always the possibility of causalities.”

For a second Buccaneer was ready to shoot at sudden movement behind Olivier, until he noticed that some of their own men were there, seemingly having rooted through Knox’ place, having come in the same way Liv had. Stood silently, like a guard, while Olivier pressed the man for answers further.

“Why does the Institute want you?”

Was that a hint of pain rushing over Knox’ face?

“I was born there, was a researcher in the Synth department. I was part of testing and development, but when my own body started to fail due to illness…”, the man paused, truly looked pained with his eyes cast downwards and his mouth a thin line, “I used our technology to move my mind into another, a synthetic body. From this point onwards my former colleagues treated me like property. Through my knowledge I escaped.”

Full-circle it felt to Buccaneer, though he could somewhat sympathize with the man. He’d been raised on a horrible mindset too and only through clues and others he’d learned that it wasn’t the norm, that it did not have to be like that.

“The things in here? How many synths do you care for at the moment?”

Knox was quick to answer, a bit of commotion from outside being heard, though seeming like nothing serious to Buccaneer.

“Only Scar. He was set to come back with the last few parts I needed, but I guess you intercepted that? And this busted up animal he brought in, if you want to call it a Synth.”

And just like that Olivier pulled back the plasma pistol and sheathed her knife, whispered with one of the men behind her, before icy-blue eyes flew to the door he’d come in through only minutes earlier, Miles standing in the doorway, looking like he’d aged ten years in the last ten minutes.

Olivier’s voice still cold, the shadow of Scar standing behind Miles falling into the room also, her words as much threat as order.

“Well, you should get done with your work then, we’ll wait!”

Which he and the men took for what it was: an order to secure the place and to be ready for a longer wait. Buccaneer making sure that his voice was booming when he spoke then, even though nobody smiled.

“Great, anybody got some rations for me?”


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies, I got another done before being picked up in five minutes :D Enjoy ;)

“Hey Miles, how are you feeling?”

Buccaneer looking into his eyes, kneeling before him, their crew around him getting ready for the stay in Knox hideout. The hand on his shoulder warm and gentle, Olivier at his side resting one of her own hands on his knee, squeezing it.

_“Get him ready for the next wipe.”_

_Surgical masks in his vision, human faces, bright lights and a feeling of helplessness._

_“But Doctor, he’s not reached his memory-limit yet.”_

_A wave over his head, words whisked away, concerns, humanity._

_“I know, but the next personality we want to download won’t fit into the current data. So we make room.”_

_His limbs struggling of their own accord, not willing to forget who he was right now._

Miles tried to smile, failing miserably.

“Horrible, if I’m honest. There was just like…a slur of impressions, you know what I mean? Nothing special, but…”

Held his head in his hands, trying to ignore Knox, sitting on his chair again a good distance away, looking at them. Tried to ignore Scar, watching them from the opposite wall, not looking smug in the slightest, but still like he’d expected that to happen.

Olivier’s voice pulling his gaze, gentle and quiet, so clearly trying to give him privacy in this overcrowded space.

“Is there anything we can do to help? A drink of water, some food? I can have the men secure the perimeter, so you can sit out in the sun if you like?”

Which for Olivier was like kneeling and offering her life to him, he knew, making it easier to at least prop one corner of his mouth up.

“Thanks Liv, really, but I’d like to stay put. You being there is enough, really, maybe a bit of time to stomach all of this information”, managed to cock his head a little, to put a mix of honesty and humour into his voice, “really, this whole experience makes me glad that I don’t tend to have flashbacks.

Olivier nodding, pressing a kiss to his temple and getting up after a long gaze to make sure he was alright, though Buccaneer sat down next to him in her stead.

 _“Do you not remember me 705 004?_ ”

_The scene replayed countless times, the voice always asking the same question, though changing sometimes, with it intonation and emotions conveyed._

_“Where am I?”_

_His own words, his own voice, never answered. The scenes in-between full of talk about data storage, memory limitations and wipes. Always followed by the same sentence._

_“Do you not remember me 705 004?”_

“You sure you don’t want a bit of water?”

Buccaneer clearly concerned, holding out his water canteen to him, which Miles took then. Took a swig, more meant to humour the big guy, but instead truly felt a bit refreshed, a little better.

“… 705 004 was my project and very well belongs into my…”

Knox’ raised voice and demanding words silenced when Olivier pressed him face first to the table with a quick movement, all of her patience for any kind of bullshit truly gone.

Her voice cold, every word pronounced with the utmost clarity

“Miles is not a possession you asshole. Never was, never will be. If you refer to him as such again, I’ll make sure that you’ll never utter another word, understood?”

Miles gave her a sign, standing up, trying to play off the shakiness he still felt, so uncharacteristic for him. Walked over to them, Olivier pulling Knox back into a standing position, the red imprint of the desk on the man’s face somehow giving Miles a feeling of satisfaction.

_“Do you not remember me 705 004?”_

Felt Buccaneer at his back, drew a deep breath and spoke to Knox like only he could, like only Miles could.

“What do you know about me?”

An irate Olivier at his back making Knox talk quickly, factually.

“You were part of a row of test-subjects meant to help with understanding the information-storage of the human brain. You and a bunch of others were acquired from the surface and experimented on, you and two other subjects surviving not only the bodily modifications, but also the tinkering with your memory.”

A shiver running through Miles, though also a sliver of _something_.

He was from the surface, was human at his core. And even if this family and community he must’ve once had were seemingly lost, there had at least been one in the first place. Maybe was still there to return to.

“We experimented with several ways to handle the brains memories, in your case wiped and downloaded new data regularly. You propelled our research forwards, the capacity and possibilities of the human brain so much bigger than we initially had thought.”

Another question coming to his mind then, a nagging one he’d been asking himself for a long time.

“Why get rid of me then?”

Knox looking like he was about to laugh, a glaring Buccaneer seemingly keeping him from it, not to mention Olivier’s dark presence at his back.

“Together with your ongoing bodily modifications we worked to keep your whole body on par with the network your brain by then provided after all, you became dangerous. Extremely so, after we started experiments to find out if there was something akin to muscle-memory in the human brain. We reinstalled one of the first batches of data and you reacted so violently after waking up that the department-head deemed you too dangerous for continued research.”

Miles watching Olivier in the back, face going through several emotions, from anger to shock and back again.

“One of our topside-agents threw you out after a mind-wipe by us and was to severe your circuits and nerves. But alas, the guy we tasked with that was always one to not follow orders to a tee.”

He nodded then, knew enough for now and walked further into this hideout for a bit, thinking.

It was somehow gratifying to know that he truly was human at his base, no question about it. His memory also made sense to him now, the absence of anything but snippets, even those little more than impressions on smells or sights. He’d been wiped before being thrown out and wiped again by the Railroad after. And anything after that was truly his own and nothing else.

Smiled to himself upon that realisation, feeling hopeful again, less sick than before.

“Hey Miles.”

Olivier behind him, the smile in her voice, the worry. Held out his arm to her and let her loop her own through it, walking through hobbled-together rooms with her in silence.

The last few days, the hunt for Scar, the less than smooth interrogation, the journey to this place. The flashbacks and the truth about himself, or at least part of it, were a lot to swallow. Squeezed Olivier’s hand once, smiling at her, honestly and openly, tempted to get lost in the raw emotion her eyes were.

Instead, his own fell on something behind her, in a room separated by a metal and glass door.

“Fuck!”

Expletives rare from him, always forcing her to follow his gaze.

The creature on the desk looked bad, deflated, a mix of fur and metal and a brain swimming in a gooey substance, even though where it was supposed to be, position wise. Olivier stock-still for a moment, shaking, clearly not knowing what to do. And then a sob escaped her, loud enough to have others come running, Buccaneers bulk almost shooting around the corner, finding them with precision.

“What?!”

Her hands pressed flat against the glass of the door, tears running silently, while Miles wrapped his arms around her. Buccaneer at their side in an instant, arm around them, staring with is mouth agape.

“Get me Knox!”

Her voice an order, her body shaking, though her eyes did not stray from the barely breathing robo-dog. One Miles could still recognise without fail, however much metal there was, not matter the matted fur and almost lifeless position.

This was Slocum.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer than the others, but hey ;) Happy reading!

_“You listened to what I just told you, so how can you still choose to trust me?”_

_The blonde kicking the magnet away and unshackling him, Miles and Buccaneer still rooted to their respective interrogation-spots, exchanging a disbelieving look._

_“These two are convinced that I’m just a bad judge of character,” stuck out her thumb pointing towards the men, eyebrows rising at her words, but no sound of protest coming from them, “I’d rather call it offering you some trust up front. Though you know what’ll happen if you betray it.”_

_Gaze fierce, decision made by him before she had a chance to ask._

_“So, you’ll accompany us to this Knox I guess?”_

_Scar nodded._

The memory being only a few days old washed over him, watching Knox work on the dog, Slocum if he’d picked it up right.

Servos were to be connected again, all supplies having already been found when Scar had run into the Railroad in the ruins of Boston. Had been allowed to keep them after the interrogation, not only as a pack mule, but because he’d seemingly garnered some respect from the one all men called the Sir, when he’d spoken of his decision to help the hurt animal.

Had walked with the Wall’s team to Knox hideout, marvelling a little at how different they all were, yet getting along in a very relaxed kind of manner. They all were on the lookout at all times, but there was no belittling, jokes flew back and forth, a helping hand was always offered when perceived as needed. Even to him.

When they stopped for a few hours, a rotation for guard-duty always easily found it seemed, he more often than once watched the three that clearly were the centre of the crew huddle together, talking quietly amongst themselves, or falling asleep near on top of the other.

It filled him with a surge of jealousy at times, not for the romance inherent to their actions, but rather for the closeness, the deep-seated trust.

Even now, the blonde watching Knox work too, neither Buccaneer at her back nor Miles by her side, it seemed impossible to get closer to one of them, without getting closer to the others too. Scar had of course used the time it had taken to get here, had talked with Miles a lot, even sharing some of the information he had.

That he was a Synth-Hybrid too, even if that had been hardly news to Miles. That Knox had told him that his brain had been experimented with like all the others, though with a different intent. Memories upon memories loaded into his brain, nothing ever erased. That they’d wanted to find out what would happen in that instance, not caring that Scar may lose his own memories, or was not unlikely to die from the stress this put his body into.

Knox so freely, with an easy voice and jovial tone, telling him that his brain had taken the large number of memories and data with surprising ease, seemingly not really aware that Scar’s very own memories were a muddle at best, that even remembering what had happened two months ago was difficult. Memories not easy to be called upon, simple as that.

All that remained snippets, certain things forcing him into flashbacks, the multitude of memories saved inside his brain making it an almost constant condition.

“What will happen when Knox has taken care of the dog? When he has taken care of my arm?”

Tried to make it sound like an off-hand question, even though he’d understood that fooling her, playing her, was almost impossible.

“Slocum will come with us. You,” the Sir looked at him, forcing him to note the cold colour of her eyes, “depends on what happens I guess, if the disabling of your sensors will work as intended. I’m not one to force people into anything.”

Scar amazed at how easy outright lying seemed to be for her, yet willing to at the same time take her word for it. Heard the hidden threat, that if he was afterwards still dangerous, still uncontrollable, he’d be taken care of. Could understand it, if he were honest with himself, even though his will to fight reared its head.

“You talk like you won’t force Knox to take the weapon?”

A shrug, though her eyes glued to the Doctor again, working on some of the machinery now part of Slocum’s chest.

“It’s a powerful thing, really. I bet it would even be a match for a Runner. But that foul-mouthed Doctor was pretty sure that transferring the weapon is impossible, so I’ll have to trust you to not go on a killing spree with it.”

A chuckle almost surging through his body at that.

“You’d kill me the second I tried to attempt such a thing.”

The Sir’s stance straight, arms crossed in front of her chest and eyes glued onto her dog. Voice fierce though, low, giving him an idea of the danger he’d be in shall he ever get on her bad side.

“You can bet on it!”

The silence holding between them, Knox, even though seeming arthritic from the outside, with his big hands showing movements so delicate, Scar was willing to believe that he’d indeed operated not only on Miles and him, but on so many others too. The results, though hated by him, undeniable.

"Do you remember Miles?"

Scar had learned quickly that the Sir was blunt and straight to the point, yet her question caught him off-guard in their perceived silence. He fumbled with an answer, trying to mask it with adjusting his jacket.

The distinct feeling that she saw through that crawling up his back.

"Only snippets, his face flashing through my memory, little more."

Did not mention the feeling accompanying those flashes, the deep-seated familiarity that welled up inside of him each time he saw Miles before him.

It had been what made Scar stop his attack when the Railroad put him on the spot, Miles presence having his sensors seemingly reel back into peace-mode and not forcing upon him the usual anger that rose when his weapon took the lead. Scar had been able to think clearly for once, to decide for himself, and to not just run after everybody opposing him was blown to pieces.

Yet, the memories of Miles, small as they may be, always pulled with them a landslide of others.

"I remember white walls, sterile rooms. Pairs of red eyes and people looking like me, without," touched his scar absentmindedly, feeling her eyes on him, self-consciousness flaring for a second, " I have a brother, but I can't remember him I think."

Her empathy unexpected, her silence at his first few words having seemed so stern, the softer tone her voice took on.

"That must be a horrible feeling. I have little sisters, a little brother too. Haven't seen them in years. I wonder what they look like, what they _are_ like now," stopped talking for a moment, eyes not glossy, but unfocused. Then she seemed to catch herself, "And I wonder why I'm telling you this."

Did not say anything in return as he had no explanation but thoughts about it.

That she talked because Miles and Buccaneer were outside at the moment, because even though loath to admit it, the things that had happened since Scar became a temporary part of her group must have thrown her and everybody else into emotional turmoil. That she was so worried for Miles, for Slocum, about Knox, on top of everything else, probably the type unwilling to admit it.

So instead of pushing her, it really being his place after all, he kept quiet, watched on as Knox snapped a metal-plate over part of Slocum’s body, hiding wiring and other machinery from view again. With a keen eye noted that switches were flipped by the man, that a tube was withdrawn from one of the dog’s two metal legs. And that with tenseness in his shoulders Knox now looked at his wristwatch, tapping with a finger and seemingly counting.

"Are you trying to wake him up?"

Since their stay here, only two days long, though it seemed like an eternity with that many people in such an enclosed space, Knox had tried to bring back Slocum three times. Each try leading only to a dog still breathing, but not waking up.

Knox answered, though did not stop his counting, kept on staring at his watch.

"I found an issue with the new artificial nerve endings that have been under too much pressure, disconnecting repeatedly. It could be that he'd been awake the first three times, but unable to respond because of that."

A shiver running through Scar at that, the feeling to be powerless to move a muscle of your own body familiar to him. He'd been able to regain at least some sense while his arm did its thing, but being awake, yet unable to open your eyes? To hear or move? The Sir's hand clutched at her elbows tighter upon the realisation, though her face remained a stony mask.

Her grumbling about Knox having ought to have caught that after the first time stopping when Slocum started twitching, eyelids fluttering. Instead her facade fell, made way for hands, and very nearly her nose too, being pressed to the glass of the door, hope and excitement not hidden. Neither the fear in her eyes.

The dog whining slightly, feet paddling in the air. Knox stepping back at that, moving towards the door. The Sir's tone agitated at that.

"What if he falls? You can't just..."

"He could react in an aggressive manner, this is a lot of stress on his body and..."

Both loud, both angry, and for a second Scar wondered what would happen. Neither the type to back down from what he’s seen, the Sir only better equipped and more battle-seasoned. But then Knox stepped out of the room, the Sir stepping in just as easily and with a defiant look, hand on the still paddling dog without hesitation. Her voice too soft for Scar to understand, though her movements spoke of worry and love. A lot like when she talked to Miles or Buccaneer.

"Hey, we heard angry voices, and... shit, he really did it!"

Buccaneer and Miles behind him, the latter silent, mouth agape with a smile, the former much more openly happy, voice a deep thrum full of mirth. Clapped Knox on the shoulder with his metal-arm, so hard that the man stumbled forwards a little.

"I didn't think that you'd manage that, you old coot!"

Scar pushing back the smile that threatened to come, looking on as the dog slowly woke up, still disoriented, though the Sir's words, her voice, seemed to register in its mind. Pressed himself into her, seemingly trying to crawl further, even when he was already in her arms.

The next hours spend in somewhat Scar liked to think of later as a happy daze, the still somewhat disoriented dog sat down onto the floor, steps wobbly and tentative. Yet tail-wagging seemed to work alright, cuddles were well received by the animal and when they sat on the floor outside to eat later, him, the crew of the Wall, it’s leaders and even Knox, Slocum walked from one to the other.

Receiving kind words and pets from the people knowing him, even giving Knox a short sniff. Wobbling over to him then, seeming a bit exhausted, yet determined. Sniffed at Scar, inspected his food and then, much to his surprise, licked him across the face. The crew of the Wall breaking out into laughter and chuckling, the Sir whistling the dog to her with a smirk.

“That meant thank you!”

The men next to her laughing, Slocum settling down half on top of her, Buccaneer and Miles snorting and smiling respectively. The conversation easy, even when they opted out of a fire, lasting well into the night. He did not talk much, but listened, the feeling somewhat familiar.

As was the feeling that gripped Scar when he realised, that he’d not gotten a chance to pet the dog yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, I would love if you dropped me your thoughts <3


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have another one :D Happy reading <3

Buccaneer barrelled into him with full force, sending Scar flying.

The man scrapping over the dirt of the wasteland, taking a moment to catch himself and get to his feet again. Dirt clinging to the man's clothes, blood trickling from one corner of his mouth, wiped away with an off-hand movement. Scar's arms still whole, weapon not showing itself, but an almost-smirk on his face instead.

"I'd say whatever Knox did seems to be working."

Shook out his own metal-arm, the blow Buccaneer knew to have been heavy, yet the weight and durability of Scar's reinforced hybrid-body easily on par with Miles'. His own nerves flaring from the hard contact, even though the feeling of tingling metal-fingers subsided quickly.

"Say what you want about him, but Knox seems to know his technology. Usage works too?"

Olivier seemingly materializing next to him, her voice level though, much more calm in its undertones than only a day or two earlier. Their stop at the Natick Banks-outpost they maintained doing them a world of good in Buccaneers opinion, the closed confinements of Knox' hideout and the pressure that came with the many revelations slowly worked through.

Scar looking at his arm, the flesh parting like he'd seen it before, this time within the man's full control now it seemed, nose scrunched up in concentration and corner of his mouth pulled downwards in an almost comical display of disgust.

His voice with an edge when he spoke, and a tad of disbelieve.

"I've never before noticed how disgusting it looks when my arm does that."

Sounded so sincere, so surprised, that Buccaneer couldn't help himself but laugh.

Olivier elbowing him into the side, Scar having the weapon fold back and his laughter holding for a little while. These last days had been stressful, the respite they were offered now loosening muscles, the decision to let Knox run free feeling good to him. The man was still somewhat misguided in his opinion, but leaving the Institute was in Buccaneer's books a smart decision, as was the man's plan to change locations. He _was_ after all helping Synths, especially those with technological issues. And Knox also posed an alternative to the Railroad, something hard to come by.

Scar seemingly having read his thoughts, though Buccaneer was fairly sure that the man couldn't do that.

"Will you not face trouble for helping me, when it comes to this Railroad? From what I've seen..."

Buccaneer practically felt Olivier's eyebrows shot up, something that always happened for some time now once the talk turned towards the Railroad. Yet, she bit her tongue seemingly, let him do the talking.

"We'll figure it out, I guess. We're only loosely affiliated with them and have always been critical of the other. So, this may lead to a further severing of corporation, but I doubt they'd do anything drastic."

The man nodding at that answer, brows furrowed in thought.

"There's a certain secretiveness that has to be maintained when helping Synths, at least that’s what I've gathered. Open fighting is not smart?"

Olivier shrugging next to him, voice still easy, though laced with a certain finality.

"Let's just say that this public display of existence from the Railroad hurt them much more than us. _We_ are a team known to the broad public, they are not. People don't know about the help we offer Synths, _they_ are known for nothing else. A confirmed existence like that, right in the middle of Boston..."

Shook her head, going silent, the meaning to both Scar and him clear.

"I'll tread carefully when I take my leave tomorrow. Not say anything of Synths in your ranks."

Buccaneer's answer easy, Olivier silent again, though her "or else!" was still hanging in the air around them without being uttered.

"Be careful with your heritage and who you are. Make sure that the people that see your weapon don't life to tell the tale. There's prejudice against Synths in the best places, outright hate everywhere else. Maybe leave Boston for a while."

His love tuning in on their talk again, this time with advice.

"Keep clear of the Capital Wasteland also. The Railroad is there too, though even more secretive then here. But your real problem there is the Brotherhood of Steel. They're not exactly Synth-friendly as of late. Change in leadership I heard."

Scar nodding, some more talk flying back and forth concerning supplies and routes and plans, until Scar walked away to get some rest before starting his travels in the wee hours of the morning.

Olivier and him walking back towards the settlements building they were staying in in silence, bare forearms bumping into the others, the way towards where Miles and Slocum were resting found easily.

Not to Buccaneer's surprise Olivier had offered Scar to stay at the Wall, to become a part of the team and work for the wasteland. Had even offered him the chance to help establish contact with the remaining Rockbells, should he want to say something. Which Buccaneer felt to have been what lead him to say no to either, the offer of a home and the offer of atoning for what had happened. Scar was simply not ready in his opinion, hardly understood the crimes done with his hands, even when his mind had been almost overwritten in the moment of committing them. And as the man had very well deduced, Olivier was not one for letting such matters rest.

Buccaneer having their fingers touch when their arms bumped together next, interlaced his with hers a little.

Eyes looking up at him, clear and blue, a slight smile on her face.

Miles had gotten through his huge flashback mostly, had taken to writing down the things he saw and with that clearing his mind of them a little. Was tired and so as soon as they'd reached Natick Banks Olivier had relieved him off guard duty for now and had him sleep. An offer his love only slightly protested, before sleeping soundly, the equally as tired Slocum stretched out next to him.

"What's our plan?"

Natick a nice place, belonging to the Wall and turned into one of its settlements. A crossroads of trade-routes, but too big and too well reinforced to be of any interest to Raiders. A calm place, really, the head of it rather happy to talk things through with Liv in peace, also happy for the people they brought, as it was a short relieve to his own people. They could go on short missions now, help the surrounding settlements to be rid of ghouls and Yao Guai, which would help with the trading in the long run too.

Yet, Buccaneer could see them walk in different directions now. To investigate some leads given through Miles memories and Scar's stories. To follow something Knox had said too, if they wished so. To stay here and watch over the progress of this outpost, or to even continue to watch some of the other, smaller outposts and see if they were well-supplied and safe. Though there was one more possibility that was the most likely.

"We'll head back to Diamond City tomorrow. I feel like we've been gone much too long in the past few months and I also want Miles and Slocum to get some rest."

Nodded, understood it well and smiled.

"You know you need some rest too, right Liv?"

An arm thumping against his chest, playful, but still plenty hard.

"And you too Bucc. Gosh, the last months really have been something else, right?"

Nodded, pulled her too him a little so their shoulders bumped into the others, the stairs to where Miles was resting climbed quickly. The man in question sitting upright, leaning against the wall with his back, Slocum's head on his lap. Olivier and Buccaneer settling down on either side of him without any trouble, Miles leg aligning with Olivier's, Slocum leaning into her, while Buccaneer wrapped an arm around Miles shoulders, smiling and gazing into his red eyes.

"We told you to sleep, didn't we Liv?!"

And to his delight, not only she laughed, but Miles too.

"He can't sleep all day Bucc! And he rested, cut him some slack!"

Her head falling onto Miles shoulder, while it was now Buccaneers turn to laugh. Miles smiling still when he spoke.

"With Scar everything is alright? Knox..."

He barrelled right into Miles usual worry with a smile of his own.

"Has done everything like promised. The rear-guard told us by the way that Knox already left his old hideout and is wandering further south, so he's holding up his end of the bargain. And Scar will move out an hour before us tomorrow, so you have plenty of time to kiss him goodbye."

Miles blushing, fumbling with words, while Olivier to the man's other side giggled in amusement.

"It's not like that! More like...you know...I _know_ him somehow. Yet, I feel like I'm forgetting something...gosh, I'm only pulling myself deeper, aren't I?"

Laughed too now, with true mirth, neither of them worried about the weird feelings Miles had started to describe towards Scar after his first flashbacks. It was in the past, not forgotten of course, but something Miles claimed he wanted to think about further, to become clear on the matter.

"I guess you'll understand it when I say that there's just too little to go by at the moment?"

Both, Olivier and him, nodding at Miles, pressing a kiss to his lips in a second bout of confirmation.

The talk then turning to less serious things, rather to the news supplied to them by Karley over the radio. That all was well in Diamond City, except for some gossip of course. That there'd been a brawl in the Dugout In, some mercenary from out of town involved. That Herman had butted heads with some guards over brining in a stray puppy after a mission, claiming it had been in the Sir's name, and that Kain, the "guy from the radio", had a new boyfriend. Shared laughter and ideas over these stories, Olivier glowing with pride at Herman's puppy-rescuing ways.

And when they were called down for supper, the smell of roasted meat everywhere, Buccaneer felt the need to pipe up, seeing the darkish meat turn over the fire.

"What _is_ that?!"

Miles easy, having helped Slocum down the stairs, the dog still wobbly on his feet a little, though overall happy and excitable.

"That's Yao Guai if I'm not mistaken. Good stuff."

Buccaneer knew what a Yao Guai looked like. Knew what it _smelled_ like. And made a face.

"It looks weird."

Olivier exasperated, proceeding to sit him down and offer him her plate not long after.

"I can't believe you've never eaten fresh, grilled Yao Guai!"

And, practically force-fed by Miles and Olivier, Slocum with glee eating everything he tried to get rid of, the sun set, and night fell. Their tradition of a sleeping-pile soon renewed, morning coming too early for him, the embrace of Miles and Olivier one he left without glee. The preparations for their journey completed soon though, all of them outside when the time for Scar came to say goodbye.

The first to receive any kind of reaction Slocum, petted by the man, cuddling with him for almost half an hour during breakfast and last-minute preparations. Olivier shaking Scar's hand, as did he, only Miles offering something like a weird shake-hands-embrace-hybrid. Befitting for them though, in Buccaneer's opinion.

Miles looking after Scar for quite some time, until Buccaneer clapped him on the shoulder in his very own half-embrace, helping him hoist up the backpack and get ready for their own departure.

Their journey only of a few short days, Slocum wobbling along and gaining more confidence with his new legs every mile it seemed. Carried when he showed signs of exhaustion, yet happy, lively and what made them all smile during the journey home to their Wall. A journey uncharacteristically easy and for once uneventful.

People greeting them when they walked into the market-place of Diamond City, those seeing Slocum, _recognising_ Slocum, coming over to them. Saying hello, trying to find out if Slocum still recognised them and even Doc Sun coming over, as he claimed to make sure that none of them were an emergency again.

The men and women at the Wall itself ecstatic, news flying back and forth, the mood as easy as the breeze that moved the sluggish heat forwards, made it bearable. And when night fell on this day too, gear stowed away, and all urgent matters taken care off, Buccaneer joined Olivier and Slocum on their usual walk-through the city, Miles not a minute later catching up to them.

Their joking and their good mood holding, their city looking still like it should, nothing worrisome talked about.

Making Buccaneer for the first time in quite a while, truly feel at peace.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another one :D

The persistent heat, the peak of summer reached, had found its way inside her Wall.

Yet, Olivier had simply adapted, some old pre-war jeans cut much shorter at the legs, one of the shirts stolen from Buccaneer bunched up around her waist with the help of an elastic. Her well-worn combat-boots making the whole ensemble look weird, but it was still better then hurting your feet on the too-hot metal of Diamond Cities walkways.

Miles and Buccaneer had commented on the outfit, with a whistle and a blush respectively, a smile coming easy to her, not faring so bad herself with the constant cases of no-shirt the heat evoked.

Still, the temperatures so high she'd cleared the underground level together with some men, to create a cool space for the dogs and all others that felt the need to cool off. Had moved one of her own Power-Armour-projects there too, so she could work on it without burning up. It was bigger than the others after all, made to fit Buccaneer and reinforce his strengths in battle, while also making up for some of his shortcomings. So she worked on good plating, his speed and agility not as high as those of Miles and her, but strengthened its arms to make Buccaneer’s blows even more devastating.

Had fun with that, was working on several things, the two months since their triumphant return to Diamond City with Slocum peaceful.

Olivier had spoken to Riza during several walks through the City, always under the guise of friendly dog-owner conversation. The Railroad was furious with her for interfering, had broken all contact for now, but neither Riza, nor Roy, had been found out as those getting the information to her. As such, she was still in the same position as before basically, information scarce and work with the Railroad uneasy.

Miles had used the time to rest, to train with Buccaneer and the men, to make sense of all they'd learned these past months. Had made a little book of it all, took notes, careful to not let those get into the wrong hands. Was close to something he'd told her just yesterday, something that could turn the fight with the Institute, covert and silent as it was, around.

Buccaneer had gone on a few more missions, had become friends with the owners of the Dugout Inn, thanks to his immense drinking prowess, and as such had found out all that was needed to know about the fight that went down there recently. An out of town guy, only giving the name Zolf, had asked around about the Wall. People had started to question why, which had led him to the defence, the money he'd offered for information taken as a shady move, even for wasteland standards. As such, after a short fight he'd left the City.

Olivier had tried to find out more about the guy, but other than one settlement once having hired him to get rid of roaches, the contract not fulfilled, her search came up empty. She set her people all over the wastes to keep on the lookout and had to leave it at that.

Instead she’d revelled in the calm and peace of the weeks passing by, went on a mission to salvage books from the Boston Library, even had found the time to finally tinker with a rocket launcher they’d found almost a year ago. And she also revelled in Buccaneer and Miles, the time she could spent with them for the first time plenty, shared meals in their room, or on top of the Wall, not rare.

Her men were calm too, worked off missions and trained off any boredom that arose, always finding something to do. She’d let them salvage more movies when the time allowed it and the place wasn’t a too dangerous one and as such some people from the town were soon invited too, the projector a thing hailed by all of the city, a chance for much-needed respite.

Especially as it was located at base-level also, where it was cooler than any other place in the city.

She simply enjoyed sleeping long, doing her duty with the feeling that there wouldn’t be a grenade in her face any second and delighted in Slocum being back, her heart full when she saw how happy everybody had been, the feeling when she woke up next to him in the morning again hard to describe.

Felt like when Miles hugged her from behind, or when Buccaneer dropped a kiss on the top of her head. Like home.

Olivier walking outside, knowing that she was too pale for the sun, to underdressed to not burn, but she only needed to retrieve Nuka, who was surely out trying to turn her white fur to darker colours, however futile that attempt was. Whistled, spotting Henschel out and Miles, practicing their aim.

And noticed a man cutting through the crowded market, dressed seriously wrong for the weather.

All her alarm-bells going off, all her instincts shouting when she saw the long leather overcoat, the sunglasses and the too precise haircut. The way the stranger moved, not caring who saw him, not caring whom he pushed to the side. His steps sure and aimed straight at her Wall.

“RUNNER!”

A moment of confusion upon her scream, before all of her men that had heard her leapt into action, scrambling for weapons and armour. Heard people run behind her, someone handing her a weapon and a bundle of grenades. Miles and Henschel outside, taking a stance, the people on the market confused at the sudden leap into action on the Wall, outside of it and on the walkways, armed men and women getting ready.

Then they noted the strange man step out of the crowd, voice emotionless, yet loud enough for everyone to hear.

“The Institute demands it property back. I have been sent to retrieve the Synths under your care, with the numbers…”

A shot from the top of the Wall ringing through the silent market, silencing the Runner effectively. Production-codes were their biggest enemy in such situations, friends turned docile and, in the crossfire, only making a fight harder.

The Runner, having moved to the side quick enough to evade the bullet, seemed unfazed.

“I will offer you one more chance to give up the Synth in your possession up, before I will engage in violence. The numbers…”

Olivier saw the crowd part for the guards, heard behind her the whirring of a Gatling-laser being fired up and moved out of the way.

The red beam engulfing the Runner momentarily, looking like a normal male, before with inhuman speed he moved out of the laser and started to dodge. The guards shooting at him from behind, her own people firing and trying to restrict the runners movements.

Not all people had cleared the market yet, were too curious for their own good, Diamond City not spacey enough for a battle like this and Olivier realising that her sureness of not being attacked here, on her own turf, put her at a disadvantage.

Instead of dwelling on it though, she gestured for Miles to move inside, raised her rifle and fired.

Runners were build for durability, not an easy target when prepared for an attack and even harder to fight like this. Their attacks were quickly evaded once they managed to pin it down, grenades often blowing out uselessly, the Runner already having moved again.

Their use of weapons also constricted in such closed confinements, even if they managed to keep the Runner on the rather open field between the market and the Wall. Much to Olivier’s charging she noted it moving towards Miles.

“Miles, inside!”

Ignoring her of course, not moving, Henschel on the floor, looking like he’d been hit, Miles shielding him. The Runner moving in having her throw caution in the wind.

In three big steps she seemed to be close, fire held by her own men, lack of protection not clear to her at that moment. The Runner turning towards her, his blow easy to see coming, ducking under it. A hand sliding into her boot, knife pulled and sheathed into the Runner’s eye-socket in one swift movement.

Sadly, Runners did not function like normal humans.

Without flinching the knife was pulled out and hurled at her, evaded narrowly. Instead she grabbed Miles, pulling him towards the Wall, towards the heavy weapons that could maybe safe his life. Henschel pulled with the by extension.

The bullets again raining on the Runner, at least moving a little slower after her attack, not distracting him much. Was moving towards them, all trying to dodge now futile, one of them always in the way.

Miles stepping forward then, taking the blow.

Little more than stumbled back, a normal human probably sporting a fist-sized hole now, Miles sunglasses only falling though, in pieces, red eyes bared for all to see, a cut over his eye bleeding.

“Unit 70…”

The Runner did not seem to reckon that Miles was well past trying to reason.

His fist connecting with the Runners head with unparalleled ferocity, busting skin and matting the Runners blonde hair with blood. Another punch having the creature heave and stumble back, the close proximity of Miles and the Synth forcing all to stop shooting.

Olivier’s mind reeling though, knowing that people seeing this was wrong, dangerous, yet unable to do anything. Miles with strong blows and quick movements forcing the Runner away from the Wall, away from her she noted.

And then she heard a roar behind her.

Buccaneer had been from her sight during the whole fight, in the back of her mind the question lingering just where he was. And yet, clad in his power-armour, bigger than most anyways and now positively huge, a sound of surprise escaped her throat. He had no helmet on, his expression a snarl, but the plating on the chest, the strengthening of the arm-servos, she’d gotten all of that done.

And the way he ran towards the Synth, locked in a fighting stance with Miles, Buccaneer clearly intended to use it.

Shouted Miles name once, who moved out of the way at just the right moment. Buccaneer upon the Runner in an instant, throwing him to the floor, mighty fist rising and a sickening crunch later the Runner no problem any more, lying limp.

And decidedly headless.

Yet, a cheer was not going through the crowd still gathered, nor did her own men celebrate. A Runner in Diamond City, speaking so clearly of retrieval, of Synths…

McDonough’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“What is the meaning of this…this…outrage!? If this was an Institutes accomplice, aiming for your people… and why are his eyes red…what is this?!”

Buccaneer rose, fist bloody, armour bloody, red specks on his face also. The cut above Miles eye bleeding more heavily now, though his eyes were truly decidedly bare. Felt people move behind her, men piling from the front, ready to defend, someone taking care of a seemingly disoriented Henschel.

The Mayor not letting her speak, seemingly already having made up his mind.

“This must mean that there are Synths in your ranks! Synths in Diamond City, endangering everyone! Even Miles…didn’t we give you shelter when you first stumbled into this city, bleeding and hungry? Food? To betray our trust like this…”

Olivier’s mind now reeling, trying to come up with a response that could save this situation, trying to think of a lie that could help calm the crowd getting agitated.

Nothing came to her mind, so she did the only thing that seemed sure to ensure all of her people’s safety. She turned around.

“Men pack up! Plan 88 is now in action, you have twenty hours! And someone get me my sword!”

Turned back around to the crowd again, someone pressing her sabre into her hand, the one thing she’d always had, besides a too-big mouth. Walked to the edge of what was considered her ground, Buccaneer walking on one side of her in an instant, Miles at the other.

“Olivier, this…”

“We can explain, try to…”

“No! Buccaneer, get Miles and all others especially unsafe out of the City now. We’ll meet up at Wilson Atomatoys.”

“Liv…”

“That’s an order! Move! I don’t want anybody shot!”

And to her surprise they stopped arguing, instead turning around and moving back to the Wall, while she walked the rest of the way towards the edge of her home, sword in hand, just standing there like a pillar, opposite of Mayor McDonough, who’d gone white as a sheet.

“You will not dare to…”

She did not care for his words, speaking over them easily.

“We will leave. Me and my men will pack up and leave, and you’ll let us. We’ll not come back, we’ll not fight against you, _if_ you let us go in peace!”

The Mayor stammering, some of the guards butting in, but her wish granted at the end of it. Maybe the fear some showed upon the weapons being carried out of the Wall a part of it, or the way she stood there, ready to strike.

Karley at one point approaching her, guards and people having backed off, still watching though. Asked her for further orders, at which she relayed that Brahmin from their near-by outposts were to be send here, that all those on missions had to be kept from getting into the city. That someone was to round up the dogs and get them out of the city, as well as make sure that Herman led the Carawan as soon as everything was ready.

One of her most trusted retreating then, but not before saying that Buccaneer had left for the designated place with Miles and all other Synths already and that Henschel had been taken with them, shot, but sure to make a speedy recovery.

Nodded at that, leaning against a piece of fence, staring away the people of Diamond City, feeling like she’d been betrayed, all the trust put into her and her men destroyed with a single attack from the Institute

Her sword brandished and glinting in the sun, ready to strike, her body resting against an old piece of wood, making her seem like a pillar also. Eyes slits, face a stone-cold mask making clear that should somebody even dare to approach her people, to interfere, would suffer for it. At her back her people moving, loading their Brahmin with all their worldly possessions, only after two hours the first called upon Brahmin from one of her outpost arriving with their handlers.

The Wall of Diamond City being emptied of all and everything, filing out of the city in decisive movements, many looking on, but nobody daring to do anything. Olivier not leaving her place, not changing, not getting another weapon. Silent and cold, keeping all away with her harsh gaze for hours upon hours. Never had the people of Diamond City seen someone seem so menacing before, none daring to approach.

Wondering, why they’d never seen how dangerous the leader of the Wall truly was.


	38. On the road again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it guys, the last one of the first part of this story. Happy reading :D

The first view of the Caravan coming closer was like something out of a dream to Miles.

Brahmin upon Brahmin, loaded heavily, the Walls crew on either side with heavy armour on and big backpacks hoisted up. Rifles at the ready, desires of many certainly enticed with what seemed promising loot. Herman walking in the front, waving at them. Not smiling, but not grim either, rather looking worn out from the heat and sweated through.

“You all right?”

Nodded, stepping up to Herman and looking at the rest of his team, also defeated by the heat.

Buccaneer had pulled them out and into the secret walkway leading out of the city, all that were a Synth swiftly out of the city. Had even carried Henschel a good portion of the way, the leg wound not bleeding anymore, but making it hard to keep up their pace. The others had followed, Miles bringing up the rear, though his mind was full of worry for Olivier.

People were fearful, and people full of fear were dumb and shot too easily.

Could only hope that she was managing the situation all right, plan 88 known to all of them, even though there’d been hope that it would never be needed.

When reaching their destination though, Patricia among those brought out early, they’d all flopped into the shade, Henschel’s wound further taken care off and the lack of supplies becoming clear to them. As such, they’d looted one of these outposts crates, had taken a few sips of clean water and got ready to wait for some time.

Fifteen hours it was, if the watch on Miles wrist worked properly. Fifteen hours in which a lot could go wrong.

“Boss was the last to leave the city, and if the whispers up the lane were true, she flipped off the Mayor while walking out backwards.”

Which gave Miles at least some peace of mind, meaning she was out of the city, judging by the spirit all seemed to be in unharmed, too. Yet, he saw no one celebrating. The Wall had been their home, to just pack up and leave a hard decision. Some were mumbling, others were having trouble with the heavy gear and the weather conditions, but the small respite offered when the Caravan pilled up and came to a halt, water passed around, seemed to lift the mood a little.

More and more Brahmin pouring in, cleverly distributed in the narrow streets, so a panic could not lead to blocked ways, it took a while for the end of the Caravan to arrive. But with it came Olivier, still in shorts and boots and an oversized shirt, though someone had at least put an oversized hat on her head to protect her from the sun a little.

A scowl on her face, going well with the already burned skin and the dirt of the street, the tiredness in her eyes and the clear signs of a bruise forming where she’d brushed the Runner.

No words exchanged as he pulled her into the shade, handed her some water, just to keep her from drinking it with a hug. Let go when she gestured for him to, the smallest of half-smiles on her face, the bottle almost at her lips when Buccaneer took her in his arms also.

Had washed up a little, though was pushing her patience too. After a few long moments pushed away by her, before any words were exchanged large gulps of water taken by Olivier.

“I need a change of clothes.”

Buccaneer and he were both well adjusted to the way she evaded serious topics.

“Were you attacked, or did everything go over rather well?”

“And some armour. The news of such a huge Caravan will travel fast, so the Raiders will be upon us.”

It was clear that she was ignoring their questions, already rummaging in a backpack handed to her.

“Olivier, please tell us that you’re alright!”

His plea answered then, with blue eyes staring out of a dirty face.

“No, no I’m not alright! None of us are!”

People sitting in the shade the streets provided or rearranging the straps the Brahmin’s luggage was held with. Others drinking, talking, some even laughing.

Olivier looking around for a minute before speaking again, voice growing softer, rising with a bunch of clothes in her hands.

“We’re really not alright. But knowing us, we soon will be again.”

Her half-smile a full one now, earnest, even if a bit sad. Miles next question pouring forth at that, Buccaneers hand on his shoulder steadying.

“Liv, you lost your home, your…”

And now she truly laughed, cupping his face with her hand and pressing her shoulder into Buccaneers bulk. Slocum sidling through their feet, making his presence known.

“Silly men. _You_ are my home, and you’re right here! My whole family, _our family_ , is right here!”

Pointed with her bottle-holding hand to all those around him, a smile on her face.

And Miles had to admit: She was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have a part two in my drafts, but would like to know if you'd even be interested in it? Shoot me a message, that would be cool! And I really hope you enjoyed this mess of a fic and thank you all for your ongoing support :D Never has a fic of mine been supported like this one and it really and honestly means the world to me! I hope that you had as much fun reading as I had writing it and gosh, I'm rambling, right?
> 
> To put it simply: Thank you <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. The goal of it is to make commenting easier for readers and to increase the feedback writers get. As such, I invite you to leave:
> 
> _Short comments_   
>  _Long comments_   
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>  _extra-kudos as <3_
> 
> I cherish all comments, weather they be long or short, even only one word makes me squeal with happiness after all. And if you’re seeing this fic ten years after I published it, don’t worry: Old or new, I’ll still love what you left me to read <3 I answer to all comment btw, though it sometimes takes me a day or two. Should you not want me to answer, just write _whisper_ in front of it.  
>  I thank you for reading this fic of mine through to the end. As I said, I appreciate all comments and kudos and should you want to get into direct contact with me [this is my tumblr](http://illidria.tumblr.com/). There you can get into discussions with me, or even send in wish-fics.  
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